“You’re fine,” I assure Rae, rolling my eyes. She was such a worry-wart at times. If anyone had to be worried, it was me. I’m twelve. So is my best friend, Phoebe Needing.
“I know, Nicky, but what about you?” Rae stared at me with a few drops in her eyes. I swallowed hard, avoiding her gaze.
“I’ll be fine,” I reassured her, but I wasn't positive. Double the children this year, and twelve-year-olds were often chosen. Mainly to show the strength of our younger children. Just because of a bet. You had to be ages eight to twenty-two, so this was Rae’s second year. And my fourth. It seemed twelve-year-olds were always picked. Some people think it’s rigged, which isn’t fair, but nobody has the guts to confront them about it.
“Come on. Go get changed, okay?” I ask, handing her a black shirt with a pair of jeans. The ten-year-olds dress code. Rae took the dress and walked out silently, leaving me in the room by myself. My eyes spit out tears, wandering around the room, never staying in one spot for long. The twelve-year-olds had the best dress code. A denim jacket with a red shirt underneath it and a pair of dark jeans. Rae’s voice still in my mind, her innocent face saying “I know, Nicky, but what about you?” I squeezed my eyes shut. I’m not safe, not like Rae. The normal amount was fifty girls and seventy-five boys, but this time it was a hundred girls, fifty chosen by random and fifty chosen by the chosen girls, and one hundred fifty boys, twenty-five chose by random and one hundred and twenty-five chose by the chosen boys. The one rule was the chosen kids had to choose kids their age. They wanted excitement. They wanted to see betrayal between the children. Friends. Rae walked back into my room. I wiped away a few tears, so Rae wouldn’t know I had been crying. Rae had her hair in two buns, what she liked to call her “Princess Leia hairstyle”. She didn’t speak but silently sat next to me on my bed, fingering the shoulder of my denim jacket.
“I’ll be fine, y’know? So will you. Afterward, we’ll get some ice cream.” I bit my lip and crossed my fingers behind my back, trying to smile reassuringly. Rae perked up immediately.
“Alright,” she replied with a smile, which was missing a molar in the back of her mouth. It was enough to make me grin and pat her reassuringly. Just as the clock struck five o’clock. It felt like a punch in the stomach. I sucked in all of my air, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Let’s go,” Rae whispers, her eyes closed. I nod and stare at my denim jacket, trying to memorize its pattern. It’s lines. I smooth Rae’s shirt and fold my collar down before stiffly opening the door, walking outside with Rae, my mother, and my father behind me. I see Phoebe walking outside in an identical uniform and I walk towards her. She meets me half-way and I hug her.
“Hey,” I say lightly. She doesn’t reply, but she links her arm in my arm and we walk towards the large building together. Rae trails behind us silently, letting us have a minute. We all know too clearly that there will probably be about forty to forty-five twelve-year-olds selected. And I won’t be one of them. Neither will Phoebe. And Rae won’t get picked. They don’t want ten-year-olds. We arrive at the large building and open the door, grinning with such a grin that mocks real grins.
“Line up,” a gruff voice in front of us commands, gesturing towards rows of chairs, labeled by age. I walked Rae up to the ten-year-old row, which was near the front before walking over to our rows. There are a hundred chairs in every row, and that’s just for the girls. There’s a hundred twenty-five for the boys in each and every row. I sat down with my stomach flipping and flopping. With every person filing into the building, I was more and more panicked. So was Phoebe, her brother, and Rae. I recognized other kids, Tessa, Aiden, Olivia, and a few other kids from school, but most of the kids were unfamiliar. I’m glad.
“Oka-a-y-y, everyone! Welcome back to the best time of the year!” The man, Michael, started laughing. “Well, for us. Not really for you people, but that’s not the point. This year, since we lost a bet against another county, we must provide double the children for the ring, where, if you are not familiar, both an adult and a child will fight. The children will be split into teams, but you will be betraying each other eventually since there can be only one winner. This year, instead of choosing the teams of two for you, y’all get to choose a partner to fight and just hope for the best. ‘Kay?” Michael sounded bored as he finished, but it didn’t matter.
“Now, without further ado, let us begin,” a young lady came to his rescue. I squeezed Phoebe’s hand, refusing to look at her with her phone, which had a random number generator to choose the children. Everyone had a number. The first two letters were always their age. Rae was 1035, I was 1264, and Phoebe was 1297. Casper was 1497 The lady started naming children quickly, having them all line up on the stage next to each other. I was right. There were only a few girls that weren’t twelve.
“And the last girl to be chosen by the number generator,” she began before pausing for a dramatic effect. “1297!” My heart nearly stopped beating as I watched Phoebe, the color in her face drained, walk up to the stage. One of the girls gave her a small half-wave before facing the lady, Jenna, again.
“Let’s begin with the last girl then make our way up to the front. 1297, who would you like to choose?” I expected Phoebe to choose someone by random, but her eyes stared straight at mine.
“I choose 1264, my friend - my best friend - Nicky.” Phoebe doesn’t look at my eyes, but I’m furious. Rae stared at me, tears in her brown eyes, as I made my way up to the stage. I saw the microphone Jenna had used with fury. I wanted more than anything to touch it, to cling onto it and have it be in my possession. I could feel it calling me, asking me to possess it. I couldn't resist. It wasn’t fair. I walked up to it and grabbed it, holding it up to my face. Somebody needs to say something. Someone needs to stand up for what’s right. If nobody else has the courage to, I will.
“I don’t agree with this. Not with this method of choosing children, but this in general. Yes, I am mad I got chosen, but in all honesty, I’ve believed this since I was old enough to understand what was going on. You have to pretend like nothing is about to happen, just go along. I-I remember right before this, Rae, my sister, asked me if I would be alright. I said yes, and that we would get ice cream afterward. We will, but it’s not going to be ‘happy ice cream’. It’s going to be sad, and neither of us will be chattering. Think about it for a couple of seconds. My family is here. Rae, my mother, and my father. Phoebe’s family is here. Everyone’s family is here,” I pause, staring at Rae. My voice is shaking and I choke on my words when I explain the ice cream promise. The spotlight shines on me, trying to make me unable to see anyone. I know who they’re trying to block out, though. Rae. “It isn’t fair to them, to us, to anyone. Why do the regular people have to worry every year for fourteen years that they’ll be chosen? Why do they have to worry that their life will come to an end? Why do they have to worry about their family? Why doesn’t everybody have to? No, better question. Why does anybody have to?” I take a deep breath, trying to look at everyone’s hopeful face, hoping I can make a difference. “And, why do these things exist? Why? Tell me. Why?” I get cut off by Jenna, who, furious, stood next to me, towering over me. She tried to smile, but her teeth were clenched. I smiled, even though I knew I would be punished harshly.
“Well, interesting speech, 1264,” Jenna spoke in whispers, her eyes burning. If looks could kill, I would be dead. “But, we can’t change tradition. You shouldn’t be questioning tradition-” I cut her off.
“What tradition? The tradition that people poorer than mayors, doctors, and lawyers get chosen? Unimportant people?” Satisfied, I waited for Jenna’s response.
“The tradition started the first year. I don’t even know how long ago. Another country, Woodlock, said that our children were weak. Compared to anything. Our country, Tearground, replied with these exact words, ‘Our children are strong. They fight hard, and could easily beat an adult in a battle if it was a team of two’. They responded, ‘Alright, they might be able to beat an adult, if it were a twenty-two year old and in a team of two, but there’s no way you could beat our district’. Tearground replied with, “An eight-year-old could beat an adult in a battle. Tell you what, each county will choose, by random, fifty girls and seventy-five boys, split up into teams. They will first try to beat an adult, a strong adult, and if they succeed, they then have to beat their teammate. All of the team's winners will then go into a battlefield and fight. The sole winner will come back and live happily ever after. Of course, this will be an annual event’. The other countries agreed, and the first year, only peasants were chosen. No important child has been put in the generator since,” Jenna said, spitting out the word peasants.
“And why is that fair?” I question, the applause of the audience ringing in my ears.
“We’re important. None of us can get chosen.”
“Why? I demand a re-choose and put in all of the names. Better yet, no more wars,” I whisper, my voice growing louder until it’s a shout. Everyone’s calling names, saying who they want to win the argument. A mixture of “Jenna!” and “1264!” can be heard in the crowd. One voice stands out. Through everyone, one shrill voice is heard. A voice screaming “Nicky! Nicky!” Rae. The spotlight still shining in my eyes, I can barely see her.
“These aren’t wars. These are things. If you want a real war, continue yelling these things! Then you’ll get what you want. A war. No! No re-choose! That’s unnecessary. And stop before I get your sister in the battle,” Jenna spat out, her eyes in fumes. She won’t, I reassure myself.
“Oh? Well,” I pause, turning from Jenna and to the audience, “who wants her to?” Cheers came up in waves, smothering her shouts. I smile and raise my arms, urging them to cheer louder. They do, and pretty soon, you can’t hear anything anyone is to say.
“No! No! No! We can’t break tradition.” You can tell she’s trying to speak pleasantly, but it’s not possible for her. She wants to smile, but her smile is fake.
“Why?” I ask, laughing.
“How dare you question tradition,” Jenna says, but she isn’t looking at me. She’s looking far into the crowd. At her children and husband. I didn’t speak for a couple of minutes, still taking in what she said. It’s good that you are. You know it. You may be giving more children futures. Chances for success.
“Wow, Jenna. You have children, too! Would you want them to get chosen?” I ask, laughing so much I’m nearly in tears. It isn’t funny, I remind myself. Keep laughing and nothing will happen. It will just be worse. I make a failing attempt to stop laughing.
“Who thinks we shouldn’t do a recount?” Jenna asks, yelling into the audience. Instead of wild cheers, boo’s and no’s ring in her ears.
“Well, I think they’ve given you your answer,” I shout into the microphone, smiling.
“I don’t have to tolerate this. Your family will be punished,” she whispered, emphasizing the word ‘will’. “Rae, number 1035, come on up. You can be on a team with,” Jenna pauses and stares at the two options of ten-year-olds. “Numer 1068.” Rae walks up to the stage, and, instead of being furious at me, she hugs me.
“No, Rae, get off this stage. Now,” I scream, the laughter dispersing and the tears flowing in a steady stream out of my eyes.
“No,” Rae tells me, facing the audience and speaking into the microphone. Phoebe moves to where I am, looking at my tear-stained face.
“Rae, come here for a second. Okay?” Rae nods, moving with Phoebe. Phoebe whispers, “Don’t worry” to me as she walks to the edge of the stage in the back. I can see Phoebe’s mouth moving and Rae nodding. Rae’s mouth moves and they walk near me and Jenna again. Phoebe shakes her head and I nod, distressed. Rae’s not going to go. There’s nothing I can do about it. Or maybe I can.
“Now, be careful Jenna. It only takes a tiny spark to make a fire grow, and you’ve given the fire way more than a little spark,” I stage-whisper, just loud enough so that the audience thinks I wasn’t meaning for them to hear it. Indistinct voices arose from the audience, taking is what I said.
“You’re right, and, let me tell you, Nicky, if there’s a riot, you’ll certainly be the one to pay,” hissed Jenna, her eyes full of hatred towards Phoebe, Rae, and I. A threat.
“I won’t regret it,” I reply because I won’t. Unless it hurts my mom, dad, or Rae. All I can think about is my fury towards Jenna and my ice-cream promise. It’s not going to be pleasant. The ice-cream. Our last ice-cream together. And I’m going to make them pay.
“Yes, yes you will,” Jenna reassures.
“Try me. Come to think about it, a riot would certainly be nice. It would be awesome to give everyone freedom. Without worrying about their children. What I wish is that I could help all the other kids. The ones chosen in past years, but because I was a coward, I didn’t say anything. Well, you know what? I’m not staying quiet anymore, and you can’t make me!” I scream, furious. The crowd is silent when I’m talking about the riot, but applaud me when I’m talking about not silently standing there anymore. Cheers ring in my ears, making me sigh with content.
“I don’t have to tolerate this. Just go with your team,” Jenna gasped, way too angry for her good. Giving me more and more satisfaction. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t happen this year.
“O-kay,” I replied innocently, stepping back next to Phoebe. Even though I’m mad at her, we have to work as a team. Why are you mad at her? She chose you. So? It’s not her fault that you’re raging about it. It’s not her fault that this has to happen. It isn’t her fault. Period. Jenna smiled at the audience, trying to call the next person up to pick someone, but the audience was shouting at her, screaming that they wanted me. I held up my hand in a stop sign, grabbing Rae.
“Rae, Rae, please. Please? Just leave. Okay? Please?” I rambled, saying the same things over and over again.
“No, I can’t. What about you, Nicky?” Rae asks me, giving me a tight hug. There those words are again. What about you, Nicky? I bit my lip, wondering. “Seriously. What about you, Nicky?”
“I don't know, but everything is going to be okay. It will. It always is,” I respond, sitting on my knees so I can look directly into her eyes.
“Okay,” Rae whispers, giving me another tight hug.
“Please, please, please leave. Don’t stay here. You can’t,” I urge, taking her cold hands in mine.
“What about you?” She asks. I hate those words. Three words. Three words can ruin so much. What about you?
“I can stay, but you can’t. Please don’t, Rae. I’ll never be able to forgive myself,” I beg, in tears.
“I’ll never forgive myself if you lose and I’m not there, Nicky,” Rae counters. “And I don’t think I have the choice anyway. You know what they’d do if they found me.”
“Good point,” I say, staring at Jenna with hatred in my eyes. It would be worse for Rae if she left than if she stayed. What if it’s us two only, at the end. Then what? I slowly walk back to where Phoebe is, but Jenna still can’t quiet the audience. Jenna’s words still echo in my mind, if there’s a riot, you’ll certainly be the one to blame.
“You know what? Something better. How about you cancel this? What’s the point, anyway? To hurt young children?” I knew I had taken it too far now. The audience shouted encouraging words at me, telling me to continue. There’s definitely going to be a riot. I’m going to be the one to blame. Mom, dad, and Rae are going to get hurt. It’s going to be my fault.
“Stop! We’ll continue the pickings and then every single child will have four more days at their houses. Now, number 1234, please come up and choose someone.” The rest of the choosings went by quickly, with Jenna only saying “good pick!”, “wow! That was a smart pick!”, or something like that. Phoebe and I stood next to each other, and I had pretty much chosen to forgive her. We have to work as a team anyway. I smiled at her, half expecting her to ignore it. She smiled back, and whispered, “you’ll crush it.”
“Me?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
“Obviously. Do you know why I picked you? I picked you because I knew you would win. You would live “happily ever after” for the rest of your life.” I nodded, too surprised to say anything.
“Okay, now for the boys,” Jenna shouted, a smile creeping onto her face. I could practically read her mind. Maybe there won’t be any outbursts. I gave her a fake, angelic smile, trying to send her a message with my eyes. She rolled her eyes at me, her curled bleached hair bobbing. I smiled and waved at the audience, pretending I was happy. Just about the only thing I needed to do right at the moment. To keep me alive.
“Really? The boys? Why? What good does that do?” I ask before clamping my mouth shut. Jenna doesn’t respond, and the audience stays quiet. Good, I whisper to myself. Phoebe squeezes my hand and I squeeze it back, holding my breath. Hoping that Phoebe’s brother doesn’t get picked. Because that would be a disaster. It would be something that I could never give back. She would be lucky if Casper didn’t get picked. Because of my outburst. Phoebe was going to get punished, or Phoebe’s family. One of those two, because of me. I’m mad at myself. I didn’t think about what I was saying or how it would affect others. I just went along with my perfect life, trying to be bold and amazing. Trying to be everyone’s knight in shining armor. Instead, I could hurt others. I could hurt family after family, person after person. There’s nothing I can do about it anymore. People were only going to get hurt because of me.
“It’s not your fault,” Phoebe whispers in my ear.
“Yes, yes it is. Casper is probably going to get picked, and if he doesn’t, it’s going to be just as bad for him, and it’s all my fault,” I tell her, nearly in tears. I’m not making it out alive. Phoebe, Rae, and if Casper gets chosen, Casper. I’ll find a way to get them out alive. I’m going to do anything to get them out alive. I will really, really will. They deserve it. I will do anything in my power to make sure one of them makes it through. Alive. But which one? It’s a lose-lose situation for me. Who am I going to choose? Think about it later, I remind myself. Don’t stress yourself out this early! They haven’t even started yet. I want to cry, but I can’t. Not while everyone’s counting on me.
“If he gets chosen, at least we’ll be together for a little bit. It’s probably what he would want, to be perfectly honest,” Phoebe tells me, on the edge of crying. I feel awful. For Phoebe’s family and my own.
“He still has a chance,” I say, as Jenna’s on the last person. I cross my fingers and so does Phoebe.
“And, number 1678,” Jenna finishes, drawing out the word and, just before the last boy rises from his seat and starts to walk up to the stage. He looks at me and smiles. He mouths, “Good job. Thank you” to me as we walked over to his spot. I want to cry. “Now, pick your people, starting with 1678,” Jenna commands, pointing to the sixteen-year-old boy. Good thing he can’t pick Casper, I tell myself, letting out a breath of air I didn’t know I was holding. Sorrowfully, he chooses another sixteen-year-old boy, who walks up to the stage without a word. The choosings went like this the whole time, everyone terrified they would be next.
“Alright. 1438, choose your partner,” Jenna says, leaning into the edge of her chair,
excited. I know I’ve seen the boy before, but I can’t remember for the life of me where. The boy stares straight ahead at someone in the audience, Jenna’s kid.
“I want that boy over there,” 1438 says, his eyes hard and glaring at Jenna’s fourteen-year-old son in the audience.
“That’s not allowed!” Jenna sputtered, trying not to cry.
“Is it?” I ask, using my voice. Jenna glares at me, sending me a promise with her eyes. Promising me that I won’t make it out alive. Yeah, you’re right, but guess who is? Rae. Or Phoebe. 1438 flashes me a grateful smile, and Jenna fourteen-year-old stands up.
“It’s fine, mom. I can do this. I’ll destroy them,” the kid, Timothy, shouts, punching the air. Jenna’s in tears now. Timothy walks up on the stage, glowering at 1438. 1438 is going to make it out alive. 1438 had sandy hair and blue eyes, and he was tall. There’s no way he wouldn’t make it out alive. He’s going to. But I’m working for Rae and Phoebe, I remind myself. Rae or Phoebe are going to make it out alive. And I’ll personally make sure of it. Jenna, collapsing in tears, walks out of the room, signaling that we’re dismissed. I stand on the stage with the other children as everyone else leaves, in a single file line. After they’re gone, the youngest children leave first. Rae walks out, without a word, with the other three girls, ten-year-olds. Breaking tradition, 1438 walks towards me, his partner still where he should be.
“Nicky? Is that your name?” He asks me, walking over to me. I nod, looking desperately around the near-empty room.
“Yeah, and you are?” I ask the boy with a questioning glance.
“Asil. Hey, thanks for doing what you did. It was brave, and I never expected anyone to do it. Trust me, people are going to be thinking about it for a long time. You’re a heroine now,” Asil beams, smiling at me. I grin, watching Phoebe look at me with jealousy in her eyes. I smile at her, trying to say, “It’s fine.”
“Hey, Asil. Thanks for what you did. It was brave, and I never expected anyone to do it. Trust me, people are going to be thinking about it for a long time. You’re a hero now,” I mimic his tone, laughing.
“Hey, it was time to teach Jenna a lesson,” Asil says, laughing. An automatic voice from a loudspeaker says,
“Elevens, please make your way out to greet your family.” Asil and I stay where we are, not moving. Phoebe walks over to us.
“I’m Phoebe, Nicky’s best friend,” Phoebe tells Asil proudly. He nods vaguely in Phoebe’s direction but continues to talk to me. I’m laughing in my head.
“You’re right, it was. But, wow, you’re brilliant for thinking about that,” I laugh, smiling. He nods and starts to laugh.
“Not really. My whole life, I was actually kind of hoping this would happen or something. I don’t know why. I guess, in a way, I got my wish,” he looks kind of forlorn and panicked, but he’s trying to smile and sound brave.
“But you’re family,” I remind him, a lump forming in my throat. My family. Phoebe’s family. Asil’s family. Everyone’s family.
“Yeah, that’s the one down-side to it all. I’m not going to make it out alive, you know. The odds are definitely against it,” Asil tells me, on the verge of crying.
“Yeah, but the odds were against you getting chosen. Right? And you got chosen. So, that obviously means the odds aren’t working today. So, therefore, you have a chance,” I tell him, kind of laughing. Asil rolls his eyes playfully as the same electronic voice tells us the twelve-year-olds are supposed to be leaving. Asil crouches to my height and walks out with me, smiling. I punch him playfully in the shoulder. Soldiers stare at him, rolling their eyes, and one even gives him a high-five.
“Wow, Asil,” I say, trying to control my laughter. I can’t meet my parents laughing. As I walk out of the doors, which automatically shut behind me, I see Rae and my parents, crying. My dad picks up Rae and swings her in a circle, trying to cheer them both up. Rae sees me and waves, and I start to sprint towards them, crying. Asil trails after me, not looking for his parents and family.
“Mom, dad, Rae, this is Asil. Number 1438, the person who chose Jenna’s kid,” I tell my parents. They’re surprised but hide it well.
“Well, hello, Asil,” my parents say in unison, my mom putting out his hand for him to shake. Asil shakes it and grins.
“Jenna deserved it. For choosing Rae and Nicky,” Asil says, blushing a little. Mom and dad smile.
“You’re right, she did, I guess. But be careful. You’ll be punished harshly,” my mom warns Asil. He nods.
“I know, I know, but it’ll be worth it. Considering what Nicky did.” Asil arches an eyebrow at them. My family surrounds me in a hug as my mom weeps.
“Nicky, I’m proud of you,” Rae says, grinning a smile missing a couple of teeth. I grin at her.
“I wish I was. I hurt you, Rae, and you’re still so happy. I’m going to keep you alive. I have to. I owe it to you. I can’t ever repay what I did to you, and this is the least I can do,” I whisper, the tears flowing out of my eyes. Rae stares at me, her large eyes begging.
“I’m getting you out alive. If it’s the last thing I do, which it will,” Rae promises me, her voice not rising or falling. It’s serious.
“Rae, you don’t know what you’re saying,” I tell her. Rae wipes away a few of the tears cascading down her face. Asil stares up at me.
“I’ll help you, Nicky, as long as we can be allies. Because one thing is for certain, you’re making it out alive from that ring. So is Rae, she’s strong,” Asil promises.
“Deal,” I murmur, close to tears. Asil smiles, but Rae has her hands on her hips. Her eyes are red from crying, and the tears have just begun.
“No, no, Nicky! Asil! Stop. Stop it, please,” Rae begs, her voice hoarse. I shake my head no.
“I can’t, Rae. I can’t,” I tell her. She gives me a tight hug. “Hey, we’re not being ripped away from each other yet.”
“But what about you?” Rae asks me, still in tears. Those words again. I hate those words. I choke back the lump that was forming in my throat, trying to decide what I was going to say. I have to be careful with my words so that I don’t upset Rae.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, choking on my words. Asil nods and smiles up at Rae.
“Come here for a second, Rae, okay?” Asil asks Rae in a hushed voice. She wipes away a couple of tears and walks with him, trying not to cry. They walk to the corner of the waiting room hand-in-hand and start talking to each other. I wish I could hear what he was telling her. Now and then, Asil looks in my direction, occasionally pointing at me, his eyebrows raised as he’s thinking. Rae nods, wiping her eyes and smiling at Asil. I want to know what he told her, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I think Rae knows it, too. Asil shakes his head at her and Rae has to try to stop smiling. She’s grinning, and she whispers something to Asil before they walk back to my parents and me.
“I love you, Nicky,” is all Rae tells me, giving me another tight hug. I give a questioning look to Asil, who just shrugs as if he doesn’t know. Frustrated, I look Rae straight in the eyes.
“Want to go get ice-cream?” I ask, not able to say what I was going to say. She nods, but the smile has disappeared off her face. Just a couple years ago Rae had been a little girl, having no understanding of what happened. Not knowing why people disappeared, making people cry. “You can come too, Asil, if you want,” I extend the invitation out to Asil who grins.
“Sure, and, you might want to invite Phoebe,” Asil tells me, making a failing attempt not to laugh. I nod.
“You’re right,” I tell him. “Do you want to meet up with your parents first, though?” I ask, staring at him with curiosity. Asil hasn’t even mentioned his parents to anyone, except to me awhile ago, and only that one time. Asil shakes his head.
‘Nah, not really. I’m going to give them some time to let it soak in, first, if you get what I mean,” Asil tells me, worry still written on his face. I nod, knowing he doesn’t want to talk about it and put my hand in Rae’s. Phoebe’s with her parents, crying bucketloads, and I know this isn’t the right time to ask if she wants ice-cream. I still hate Jenna for choosing Phoebe, who chose me, which made me start to speak without censoring my thoughts, which made Jenna make Rae fight, too. I hate Jenna from the bottom of my heart for that, and I’m going to make her pay. If it’s the last thing I do. I hate Jenna and I need to show her that she can’t control me. Any human doing that to children is evil. Silently, the three of us walk over to Bob’s Icy Ice-cream Shop. Just about the worst name ever, but they have delicious ice-cream, so it’s fine. I guess. Not really, but there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. Rae loves it, and that’s all that matters. I order a rainbow-sprinkled vanilla ice-cream cone, Rae orders a double scoop of chocolate, and Asil orders an ice-cream cone filled with sour patch. Nobody talks while we eat the ice-cream, but I only take a couple of licks before throwing it away, claiming I wasn’t hungry.
“We’re going to the ring in a couple of days. One chosen to another,” Asil puts his fist in mid-air, waiting for us to put ours on top of his. Rae does without hesitating, but I have to wait a little while before I do, but I add my hand on top of Asil and Rae’s. I chew the inside of my mouth, mainly because my lip has been chewed too much, lately, not speaking to anyone. I don’t want to, but they understand. Thankfully.
“It’s not your fault, you know? That girl could have chosen me just because. It isn’t necessarily your fault, Nicky,” Rae told me, surrounding me in a hug. I smile at her and Asil, who’s awkwardly standing near us.
“Be prepared to see each other, Rae, Nicky. We’ll probably all see each other many times. And, even if it may not be permanent, we can form an alliance. I guess Phoebe can join it, too, if she makes it. Which she won’t, since you will, but then,” Asil stops there and starts biting his tongue, knowing that he was speaking too much. I nod, staring at Rae, speaking to her with my eyes. She smiles back before pointing at Asil and doing the cuckoo sign, which makes me laugh.
“Hey! I saw that,” Asil protests, but he’s laughing. Rae giggles while I try not to laugh. Asil is really something else, but I love him anyway. The clock is located right above the counter beeps twelve times, signaling that it’s noon. What a big day. And it’s only noon.
“I-I’m going to go see my parents now,” Asil mutters, but his voice cracks. I nod without saying a word, knowing that I’ll have to go home as well. I’ll need to talk with my parents. I’m sure that they’ll have a strategy for me, just as they always do. They have a couple days to talk to us, to give us strategies, but I need to know what exactly I need to do. I’m a strategic person, so I love to have strategies. I don’t know what Rae’s plan is going to be. I’ll probably have to be the one to give her that, after my parents give me mine. Rae’s is going to be better than mine, I promise myself. But I know as well as everyone in my family that this is just going to cause heartbreak. Only one of us has the chance to make it out alive, and it’s going to be Rae. But, of course, Rae is trying to get me home alive. I grab Rae’s hand and we walk out of Bob’s Icy Ice-cream Shop. Rae skips, making me skip with her. Why is she so cheerful? I feel bad for Rae, but I also feel bad for my parents. It’s all my fault.
“Rae, I know you hate me saying this,” I begin, taking a deep breath, hoping I don’t tell her everything on my mind. “But you are making it out alive. I don’t care what you say, Rae, but it’s my fault. There’s no way that one of those two ten-year-olds would have chosen you. There were hundreds of other ten-year-olds. Hundreds. I should have censored my thoughts. I shouldn’t have said everything that came to my mind. If someone let me have a redo of today, I wouldn’t have done that. Ever. Not in a million years. I’ll never be able to forgive myself if you leave. If I have to say good-bye to your perky self. If I have to say good-bye to Asil. If I have to say good-bye to Phoebe. I don’t think I’m going to go to the ring. I just don’t think it’s right. I just can’t,” I tell her, my eyes blocking out the tears trying to cascade down my face. Rae stares up at me suddenly.
“I know you hate these words, but what about you?” Rae asks me. It was as true as true could be. I hate those words. “I want you to make it into the ring, even if it means saying ‘bye to Phoebe. Okay? Please? I need to say good-bye to you, as I leave. I won’t be able to just leave. Even if Asil and Phoebe are with me. I just can’t. You’re my sister. I need you,” Rae replies, jerking on my arm a different way. I follow her without questioning and she leads me to a pond. There are water lilies on the pond, floating on lily pads. It’s gorgeous. I finger one of the lilies with one finger, as if terrified I would break it. I’m still letting Rae’s words set into my head. I don’t understand anymore. People are confusing. I’m going to need to talk to Phoebe, to clear out my head. I want to survive for Rae, until the ring, but at the same time, I need to die for Phoebe. To know that a few people want me alive and Phoebe probably wants to stay alive is confusing. I want to give up before it starts. I know I can’t. Normally, there is the first ring in which we must defeat an adult and child, but then you get to go home, but this year, of course, you need to to go two rings. One girl got chosen and she has a broken arm. Even if she makes it past the first ring, which is nearly impossible for her, she has a practically zero percent chance. All because of a stupid bet. Two rings because of a bet. We’re not only going to need to face our country, but everyone else’s, too. Every year, there are three weeks in which people can move to a different country. My best friend, Phoebe moved here from a different country the same three weeks my best friend moved to a different country. I wonder if she got chosen. Probably did, since everything is against me today. I wonder if I’m going to see her. I’m just glad that I won’t know most of the people in the second ring if I go there. There are seventy-five countries, and half of them have to provide the same amount of children we do. There are going to be a lot of people. Too many for my liking. To be hones, any amount of people are to many for my liking. Nobody deserves it. It shouldn’t even be for criminals. Nobody deserves it. Lives cut short. Eight-year-olds forgotten, dying in a stupid ring. No, eight, nine, ten, eleven, ten, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen-year-olds dying. I still can’t respond to Rae. I don’t know how to.
“I’ll try,” I tell her finally, squeezing my eyes shut. “And, you’re right, I hate those words.” She pats my shoulder, still eyeing my jean jacket. It’s much harder when you know who’s going with you.
“I know, I know,” Rae murmers. I feel guilty. Rae, just ten-years-old, cheering me up. I’m twelve. I should be soothing her. I turn around to hide the tears threatening to fall, but instead of just turning around, I start to sprint back to the house. I collapse on my bed, still in tears. Rae comes in my room about thirty-minutes later, and she just sits by my bed.
“Wow, Nicky, you aren’t in the ring yet. You don’t need to sprint away,” Rae tells me, which makes me laugh a little, but the tears keep coming.
“I’m sorry, I really am, I just couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I want to give up, but I can’t. Everyone’s counting on me for different things. I just want this all to stop. I thought I was doing everyone a favor by standing up to Jenna, but instead, I’m making everything worse. You wouldn’t even be going into the ring in the first place if it weren’t for me. What if it’s you, Asil, and me left. Then what happens? There can only be one winner. Will Asil do away with me? Will you say good-bye to Asil? Will Asil say good-bye to you? I just need to stop thinking about all the possible outcomes. I can’t do this anymore,” I say. More like attempt to say. My bed is soaked from all the tears spurting out of my eyes, and they aren’t going to stop soon. Rae sits on the bed next to me, helping me. This morning wasn’t I the one helping her? How did everything change so fast?
“People, including me, need to stop relying on you. And you really did a good thing standing up for Jenna. You could see her breaking. And, you got the crowd fired up! You’ll be able to hear all the cheers from the ring. I know it. Nicky, I know I’ve said this before, but you are strong. You are amazing. You are fabulous. You need to stop playing out all the odds though. Anyone knows that that is a horrible terrible no good idea. Even you know that, even if you don’t want to admit it. You are going to be the winner, if I can do anything to help it.”
“What about you?” I ask with a devilish grin. Rae rolls her eyes and play punches me on the shoulder. The tears stop flowing a little bit and I’m smiling, but my eyes are still red and puffy. Rae opens her mouth to protest, but closes her mouth. We were at the pond for a long time, because it’s already two-o-clock. I just sit on my bed with Rae, her hair ties drooping from all the running, I want to sink to the floor still, though. A joke can’t take away the guilt still deep in my heart. My parents come in, and my dad asks Rae to come out into the hallway. It’s the strategies, I tell myself.
“Nicky, you need a strategy. You’re leaving in two days and they are not going to help you - or anyone else for that matter - at all,” she tells me in her clear, strong voice. I nod meakly as if to say, “continue.” Her eyes dart around the room. My mom hands me a glass of water and it’s sweet, cool, and delicous. “Okay, so, first of all, let’s talk about the first ring. You and Phoebe must work together. After that, well, you can hope that Phoebe’s already gone. If she’s, well, you know, not, then-” her voice trails off and she doesn’t finish the sentence. I know she won’t be able to, but mainly because she’s known Phoebe for four years. “In the second ring, assuming you make it there, which you will, knowing you, then you will play it weak and terrified. Do not go to meet any of the other children until needed, then figure out what to do. I think you’re smart enough. The final three will most likely be you, Asil, and someone else. Possible Rae. Probably Rae, considering she’s weak and nobody will go after her. These final three won’t be pleasant. You’ll need to say good-bye to Asil, which will leave you with Rae. Then, say your good-byes to Rae. This will be a heartbreaking moment for you, mind you. Want to hear a story?” I swallow hard, knowing I won’t let Rae lose. I’ll lose, if I must, but Rae won’t. Ever.
“Yeah, sure,” I respond to mom, staring at her face.
“I was a winner, when I was a girl,” she pauses to see my reaction, which is shock. I never in my twelve years of existance knew that mom was a winner. “I was young, only eight-years-old, but the other girl I was with sacrificed herself. They gave us a young, unfit teen kid, mainly because we were both young. The teen was quick to leave, and the girl,” she swallows hard, “she was my best friend. She told me that she wanted me to win. I remember trying to tell her no, that I would sacrifice mine, but the girl, Emma, she refused. That year, the ring was on a cliff, so she went bunjee jumping. Without the cords. I wanted to jump off the cliff, follow her, to defy and outsmart the leadership, but in mid-air, the planes got me. I couldn’t. I remember thrashing around in the net that captured me, making sure I didn’t follow Emma’s leads, and I was upset. In tears, actually. Unlike every other winner. Unlike your dad. You see, he was a winner, just like me, but although he lived in this country, I barely knew him. We met on the plane ride back to this country, and we became friends. He was nine-years-old at the time, one year older than me, and eventually we became married. So, yes, that was how I met your dad. He barely scraped through the ring alive, though.” Her voice was sweet but sad, her eyes sparkling but downcast.
“Emma sacrificed her life for yours?” I asked in astonishment. I guess I’ll be going the same way Emma went. Sacrificing my life for someone I love. In my heart, I knew that I couldn’t use my mom’s heartless strategy. No wonder she was heartless. She had a best friend, but she made her heart break. Now, I thought, it’s getting even more complicated. Mom wants me home. Rae wants me home. Phoebe wants to go home, probably. The conversation floated back to me, her voice echoing in my mind.
“Nicky, you need a strategy. You’re leaving in two days and they are not going to help you - or anyone else for that matter - at all,” she tells me in her clear, strong voice. I nod meakly as if to say, “continue.” Her eyes dart around the room. My mom hands me a glass of water and it’s sweet, cool, and delicous. “Okay, so, first of all, let’s talk about the first ring. You and Phoebe must work together. After that, well, you can hope that Phoebe’s already gone. If she’s, well, you know, not, then-” her voice trails off and she doesn’t finish the sentence. I know she won’t be able to, but mainly because she’s known Phoebe for four years. “In the second ring, assuming you make it there, which you will, knowing you, then you will play it weak and terrified. Do not go to meet any of the other children until needed, then figure out what to do. I think you’re smart enough. The final three will most likely be you, Asil, and someone else. Possible Rae. Probably Rae, considering she’s weak and nobody will go after her. These final three won’t be pleasant. You’ll need to say good-bye to Asil, which will leave you with Rae. Then, say your good-byes to Rae. This will be a heartbreaking moment for you, mind you.”
“Leave. Just leave,” I tell her icily, my brain yelling at me to stop, my heart telling me to continue. I finger the bedspread before lying back onto my pillow, smiling. Mom kisses the top of my cheek before she leaves the room, and I follow her, opening the door and sprinting to Phoebe’s. There’s no way I’m killing Rae. I’m not. Period. I knock on the door, trying to smile. Phoebe opens the door, her eyes still red and puffy.
“Nicky! How are you?” She asks, as if she didn’t just see me a couple hours ago. I nod, as if that tells her that I’m fine.
“We need a plan,” I tell her with urgency.
“I have a plan. I’m not fighting. Just not. I refuse. I won’t. They’re not going to do anything to me,” Phoebe tells me.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, and what does that leave me? Dead?” I ask, staring curiously at her. “And, what does that leave you? Dead?” Phoebe seems to be considering this, because she doesn’t answer. Instead, she traces the air. She grabs a piece of chalk, and on the driveway, she writes, “Nicky and Phoebe forever.” She grabs two chairs, places one on each side of the writing, and sits down, gesturing for me to sit down next to her. I sit down without a word.
“Fine, I’ll fight, but I’m not making it out alive. I want you to win, as payback. Even if, by some miracle, I make it out alive, then there’s no way I’ll make it out alive. You know that,” she tells me. “And, you’re right, I’d die if I ran away.” I nod, not knowing what to say, so I make a random excuse.
“I have to go, uh, my mom’s calling me,” I tell her, cocking my head over in my house’s direction. Phoebe gives me a hug. Is it a hug good-bye? Is it the last hug she’ll give me? No, and I’ll make sure of it. I walk over to my house before lying down, not knowing where I could go. The next day passes in a breeze. Rae comes into my room and we just sit in silence. All day. Eventually, I’m counting hours. I still can’t believe that we’re going into the ring in just four hours. Four hours of tranquil peace. At four hours, Asil knocks on the door and we go outside.
“Just four hours,” I remind Rae and Asil for what may be the thousandth time. Now I remember where I saw Asil. In the woods. He said “hi,” but I was too shy to say anything. Instead, I ran away as if I didn’t hear him. If I could go back to that day and change what I did, I would. I wouldn’t hesitate. I know what I did was probably hurtful, but I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself. Like normal. I remember as I was leaving, he tossed me something. I still don’t know what it was, and I never will. The hard truth slaps me in the stomach, making me take a deep breath. “Good luck.” I chew the inside of my mouth, causing it to bleed, just so that I don’t cry. Just so that I don’t yell at myself for not doing anything that day. That one day. If someone would let me go back, I would. I can’t cry. I won’t. I refuse. I’m going to be strong for Rae. For Asil.
“Yeah, I know. Good luck,” Rae echoes, taking a shaky breath. Asil doesn’t say anything, but he’s still looking at me.
“Good luck,” he finally mutters before leaning over to me and giving me a half-hug. I give him a half-hug back, not knowing what to say. Asil walks over to Rae and gives her a high-five. “I’m not coming back,” Asil reminds us. I let the words sink in. Even if I forfeit myself for Rae, Asil’s still going to be left. I chew my mouth harder, still thinking. “Only one of us is, but who is? Rae? Nicky? I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve founded a friend group. Us three. Inseparable.” I nod, struggling not to cry. Rae stares at me. Just a few days ago she was a young girl, terrified of the choosings, and one who wouldn’t dare hurt a fly. Now, she’s faced with something even harder. Even at Rae’s young age, she’s already grown up.
“We’ve come a long way from where we began,” Rae told Asil and I, but she raised her eyebrows. “Especially you too.” Asil and I’s face blushed a bright red at Rae’s words, but I didn’t say anything. Like normal. There were so many times that if someone gave me the chance to go back to just yesterday, I would. I would give anything to.
“Yeah, we did, didn’t we? I can’t do anything for you two before the second ring, but take this piece of advice. Not everyone is your enemy,” Asil tells us two quietly. “Like, take Jenna’s kid, for example. He’s about twice the size of me, and could easily do anything he wanted to me. I should probably use him before the adult. He’ll be easier.” Asil knew it. He really did. Asill was a short, skinny kid, who looked like he hadn’t gotten enough food for any meal. Jenna’s kid, Timothy, well, let’s just say he probably gets four helpings per meal. I thought Asil had chosen Timothy for his sake, but now, I know, that he chose Timothy for pure rebellion. Just to annoy Jenna, to get under her skin. The conversation floats back to me, the one we had just two days ago.
“Not really. My whole life, I was actually kind of hoping this would happen or something. I don’t know why. I guess, in a way, I got my wish.” I know that’s a lie. For someone to even think that is practically impossible.
I know that’s a lie, I keep telling myself. The last four hours pass by and we walk over to the room, where we’ll be escorted to the first ring. I squeeze Rae’s arm, and even she can tell that I’m worried.
“You’ll do great, Rae,” I tell her. “Make it out alive, and have fun at home.” My head isn't where it should be, though, and I quickly find my eyes darting around the small room, where more than a hundred kids sit in silence, worrying about their future. Hoping they’ll make it home.
“What about you?” Rae asks me, for what may be the hundred millionth time. I grind my teeth together, but don’t say anything. Honestly, I have been wondering that. What about me? I shot a look toward Asil, who was sitting on the other side of the room. He mouthed “good luck” to me right as we were whisked into the ring. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and thought about everything that was going to lie in front of me.