I watch Anne Foyer look around frantically at the burst of the cannon, announcing another tribute death; my eyes are glued to the black-and-white screen. She looks confused, probably wondering why she is still there in the arena. After barely surviving from the deadly attack by the Gamemakers-Poison Dart Frogs-I honestly don’t blame her for being uneasy.

I sit there and gaze at the screen; she has unwanted sorrow and anxiety written across her face as she sets up camp for the night. An idea flashes into my head, and I quickly dial the Gamemaker hotline that comes across the bottom of the staticky 15-inch screen every half hour. After an automated voice picks up and I press seven on my house telephone, I wait to the sound of classical music until a real person finally comes on the line. I tell them that a specific gift that should be sent to “Anne Foyer” (which I had to repeat four times until they finally understood) in the arena and they finally mumbled an agreement. A large bill will be sent to my house for sending it, but I don’t care. I’ll use up all of my piggy bank money if I have to. I just want her to win.

About twenty minutes later, invisible cameras on the live TV shoot up towards the sky, where a silky silver parachute comes gliding down with a little box attached with fine string. Although I am a District eleven citizen and she’s from District two, I’ve been watching her throughout the entire 80^th Hunger Games. She reminds me of my older sister, Lily, who died three years ago in the Games. I miss her more than anything and Anne has a similar presence to her, bringing back the wanted memories. I sit on the edge of my seat, my fingernails digging into the arms of the old wooden chair. Her eyes light up as she sees the box flying towards her and she reaches up, letting it land lightly in the palm of her hand. She closes her fingers around it and then starts to gingerly open it, looking cautiously around every few seconds to make sure that she is still alone. The parachute falls to the ground as the string is separated, the light breeze gently pulling it away towards a lush palm tree. She slowly holds up a thin silver chain with a little crystal heart that represents hope in Panem. She takes no part in hiding her surprise. Happiness erupts across her face and I know that she understands that she has support from everyone, not just people from her hometown due to the small note card announcing that I sent it from eleven. I watch as she looks up towards the artificial sunset, smiling, and whispers “thank you”. All I do is smile back and say to the screen “no problem” in a quiet voice that echoes throughout the empty house.