A few weeks later my Father fell very ill. We took him to the doctor but the doctor had no idea what was wrong. We tried giving him herbal remedies, but nothing seemed to help. Due to my Father being too sick to work and my Mother being pregnant, I had to skip school to work. First I worked in the fields planting, which was arduous work. It required a lot of walking and bending over; I figured I was better at working in the orchards, which was much less arduous because I got to do my favorite thing; climbing. I didn’t weigh a lot, so I was able to get all the fruit off the trees quickly and efficiently. In the beginning, my Mother was able to help my Father at home and do some cooking and cleaning. She would help with the garden and sometimes sell the herbs and vegetables that grew there. After a few months went by, she became weaker. It became harder for her to move around and walk. I could tell she was getting sick. Very quickly she became bedridden. With her and my Father stuck in bed, I had to do everything. I had to cook, clean, work, and take care of them. We were barely scraping by, but I was keeping us all alive.
Some days, when I got home from the orchards, I would go out in the garden for hours. It relieved stress and was relaxing to be out there. I would sometimes just stare at the wisteria, which had been thriving. Once, after a hard day at the orchards I came home and got some herbs from the garden to trade for soup. When I got home, I decided to chop up one of our last potatoes to put in the soup as a little treat. While I was chopping the potato, I accidentally knocked the soup all over the ground. It was inedible. I was so enraged that I threw the knife at the wall to the right of me. It stuck and dug in deep. When I went to retrieve the knife from the wall, it was very difficult to pry out. The next day, I took the knife and threw it into the small tree in the backyard. I didn’t miss once. I practiced on smaller objects and even while not looking. It was relaxing and helped get my anger out. It was much better than sitting inside and watching my parents suffer.
My fifteenth birthday came and went. It wasn’t very special and only reminded me of my Grandmother’s passing. Then the Reaping came. I had to go for tesserae. My name was entered into the bowl fourteen times. If I didn’t, then my family would have had no chance of lasting another year. I wasn’t even thinking of what would happen if my name was called. The morning of the reaping I put on a nice dress and wore the necklace my Grandmother gave me. I fed my parents and gave them a little bit of herbal medicine. They did not have to come because they were too sick to leave the house. I stand with my peers as the mayor introduces our capitol representative. She says “Happy Hunger Games, everyone. May the odds be in your favor.” She walks over to the girls' bowl, sticks her hand in, and pulls out a small white slip of paper. She reads it carefully aloud “Wisteria Harvey.”
Her words echo in my head. I am in shock. All I can do is stand there. Then someone nudges me forward and I walk towards the stage. I don’t remember anything except for sitting on the stage in shock. I don’t even remember the other name that is called. When they bring us into the Justice Building, no one visits me. My parents can’t come so all I do is sit there ruminating about how I can survive in the arena. I can throw a knife, I am good at climbing, I can cook, and I can make medicine from herbs and plants. That is pretty much It. I am not strong, I am certainly not very big, and I am emaciated. While I am thinking, my hand falls to my necklace. A little smile comes when I think about my Grandmother. Then I realize I can take my necklace into the Hunger Games to keep a little piece of my Grandmother with me for support.