Hunger Games Mairead McConnell

“$3.50, please.” I open up my worn wallet and fumble around for enough quarters, nickels, and dimes to pay for my Taco Bell burrito. I’m five cents short. A shake of my purse yields five lingering pennies, and my stomach and I sigh together in relief.

It wasn’t until I got my own job and my parents left me at home for a weekend that I realized I lacked a major life skill -- cooking. I was so used to my mother preparing all my meals that when no one was home to answer my yells for a sandwich, I found myself helpless. Yes, I knew how to pull the lid off a Chef Boyardee can and make a packet of Ramen noodles, but cook a meal with actual ingredients? Nope -- the closest I got to food was a slimy, congealed quesadilla that not even my dogs dared to eat. So I decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and ordered a pizza. That was all fine (and the pizza was amazing), but after three days of eating every meal out I discovered that my money had performed a disappearing act. I was left with only enough coins to buy Taco Bell. Thank goodness Mom and Dad saved the day by coming home from their trip and serving me a home-cooked meal. I realized that, if they had stayed just a day longer, I would have been awfully hungry.

So, what must I do...