clear my throat, wishing for a bite.
Even when dying, a burger or a chocolate still counts. None of us has eaten since the games started – except for the candy bars we found in the pockets of the dead. Timmy throws the burger in the garbage without finishing it, then claps his hands clean. “So are you ready to die? Or to live? It’s all up to you.”
Our hearts are racing again. We’re looking at each other, looking for the one we’ll be forced to sacrifice so we save the rest. If the eleven of us land down on the net, all of us will die. We need to get rid of someone. That’s what the numbers are for. To remind us that the least favorite in the crowd is the one we should get rid of. The least favorite is Vern. Number one. Woo used to say that in the Amerikaz the number one was the number of the winner. No wonder they got apocalypsed. It’s a no-brainer that a Ten is a winner.
The bow gun in front of me is unlocked now. I hear the click as it swivels freely in a breeze. I am the only one with an unlocked gun. Everyone stares at me with Goosebumps on their arms – and under their pants, I guess. I wouldn’t want to go there
“The choice is yours, Decca,” says Timmy, licking a trail of ketchup off his lips. “You shoot one of your friends with the bow gun, the rest of you can freefall safely into the net, and your family is spared.” Timmy stops, thinking for a moment. “The audience thinks you’re the most likely to die last. That means they think you can save this game and maybe, just maybe, get ranked. Vern is the most likely to die first, so the choice is yours. You’ve seen the numbers the Wheel of Fortune has given you. I think everyone agrees that Vern is our next scapegoat.”
I can’t speak. The words are too heavy on my tongue. The weight of the world is stuffed in my throat.
“You have other options as well.” Timmy plays devil’s advocate. “If you don’t want to get rid of number one, then maybe number two.”
I am still speechless. I want to switch balconies. Maybe this is the right time to switch places with Leo. He is the one who is usually heartless and can do this.
“Here is another tip.” Timmy keeps pushing. “You can forget about the numbers and trust your instincts. For example, you may as well choose to shoot Bellona. She keeps hitting on Leo, you know,” Timmy teases. “If it were only you, Leo, and her on earth, she would not hesitate to kill you – of course, you could just let the dinosaur tiptoe on her and squash her, but that’s another thing.”
The viewership meter peaks: four million and seven hundred viewers, and ten times that number is watching me worldwide.
“Don’t believe him, Decca,” Bellona pleads. I flirt with the trigger. I am going crazy. Ever wanted to shoot another girl? Even better, ever had legal permission to shoot one?
Advertisements start showing on the screen. Even inside the battlefields, in front of the Zeppelins, large sponsored fliers orbit the area.
Timmy stands in front of the camera, hands folded, wearing the latest designer shirt and jeans, all branded with prices showing on the screen. He has a lollipop in his mouth and a grin on his face. Even the lollipop is branded. The message on the screen says: ‘You want to wear Zrada and be cool like Timmy?’
“This is a freak show,” Leo growls, trying to free himself from the balcony, but he can’t. You’re not Hercules, Leo. His face is red with the veins in his neck showing through.
“What if I don’t shoot anyone?” I dare Timmy.
Timmy lowers his head, acting disappointed. “Then the eleven of you will fall into the net. Believe me, if this happens, you will kill each other down there before the crocodiles get to you. Your family will not be spared, and who knows what will happen to them.”
Even though my parents wanted to kill me when I was seven, they are still my weak spot. I can die, but I can’t die causing my parents a living hell. My brother could be a
Even when dying, a burger or a chocolate still counts. None of us has eaten since the games started – except for the candy bars we found in the pockets of the dead. Timmy throws the burger in the garbage without finishing it, then claps his hands clean. “So are you ready to die? Or to live? It’s all up to you.”
Our hearts are racing again. We’re looking at each other, looking for the one we’ll be forced to sacrifice so we save the rest. If the eleven of us land down on the net, all of us will die. We need to get rid of someone. That’s what the numbers are for. To remind us that the least favorite in the crowd is the one we should get rid of. The least favorite is Vern. Number one. Woo used to say that in the Amerikaz the number one was the number of the winner. No wonder they got apocalypsed. It’s a no-brainer that a Ten is a winner.
The bow gun in front of me is unlocked now. I hear the click as it swivels freely in a breeze. I am the only one with an unlocked gun. Everyone stares at me with Goosebumps on their arms – and under their pants, I guess. I wouldn’t want to go there
“The choice is yours, Decca,” says Timmy, licking a trail of ketchup off his lips. “You shoot one of your friends with the bow gun, the rest of you can freefall safely into the net, and your family is spared.” Timmy stops, thinking for a moment. “The audience thinks you’re the most likely to die last. That means they think you can save this game and maybe, just maybe, get ranked. Vern is the most likely to die first, so the choice is yours. You’ve seen the numbers the Wheel of Fortune has given you. I think everyone agrees that Vern is our next scapegoat.”
I can’t speak. The words are too heavy on my tongue. The weight of the world is stuffed in my throat.
“You have other options as well.” Timmy plays devil’s advocate. “If you don’t want to get rid of number one, then maybe number two.”
I am still speechless. I want to switch balconies. Maybe this is the right time to switch places with Leo. He is the one who is usually heartless and can do this.
“Here is another tip.” Timmy keeps pushing. “You can forget about the numbers and trust your instincts. For example, you may as well choose to shoot Bellona. She keeps hitting on Leo, you know,” Timmy teases. “If it were only you, Leo, and her on earth, she would not hesitate to kill you – of course, you could just let the dinosaur tiptoe on her and squash her, but that’s another thing.”
The viewership meter peaks: four million and seven hundred viewers, and ten times that number is watching me worldwide.
“Don’t believe him, Decca,” Bellona pleads. I flirt with the trigger. I am going crazy. Ever wanted to shoot another girl? Even better, ever had legal permission to shoot one?
Advertisements start showing on the screen. Even inside the battlefields, in front of the Zeppelins, large sponsored fliers orbit the area.
Timmy stands in front of the camera, hands folded, wearing the latest designer shirt and jeans, all branded with prices showing on the screen. He has a lollipop in his mouth and a grin on his face. Even the lollipop is branded. The message on the screen says: ‘You want to wear Zrada and be cool like Timmy?’
“This is a freak show,” Leo growls, trying to free himself from the balcony, but he can’t. You’re not Hercules, Leo. His face is red with the veins in his neck showing through.
“What if I don’t shoot anyone?” I dare Timmy.
Timmy lowers his head, acting disappointed. “Then the eleven of you will fall into the net. Believe me, if this happens, you will kill each other down there before the crocodiles get to you. Your family will not be spared, and who knows what will happen to them.”
Even though my parents wanted to kill me when I was seven, they are still my weak spot. I can die, but I can’t die causing my parents a living hell. My brother could be a
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