The day comes where President Snow announces what's going to be different in the quarter quell. Twice as many tributes will enter the arena. Twice as many kids will fight. Twice as many tributes will die, will be slaughtered by their allies and fellow districts. And yet when the people of the capitol hear this, they erupt into applause.
I don't just not like the reaping, I hate it. I loathe the way that Argus Maximilian talks, when announcing the death sentence of another tribute of district 12, I despise the people of the capitol, and I detest how Caesar Flickerman can be so happy when he is interviewing the tributes. For the Capitol, the games are entertainment, a way to get their minds off of the people of the capitol and into the personal lives of the districts. For the people in district twelve, the games are the funeral for those tributes, those unlucky 2. If you are picked for the reaping, you don't stand a chance against the careers. So when I hear that twice as many tributes are picked, my stomach drops.
The reaping comes faster than expected. Before I know it, Argus is up on stage, this year with a bright orange shirt with a frilly collar, matching Caesar Flickerman's hair. As he introduces himself and plays the short video on the capitol, I can't help but notice his smile. It's looks like he's going to puke, the way that smile is plastered on his face. I heard in the Capitol, they have this surgery where they can make you look younger. He's been the announcer for district 12 since the beginning, which makes him around 70, but he looks like he's 40. I bet that's why he looks so terrible.
Argus taps the mic with his strangely tinted hand, this year a light shade of pink. The people in the capitol choose to dye their skin different colors, whether it be blue, orange, red, or green; I think it makes them look absolutely terrifying not to mention terribly unattractive. Argus begins to speak in a strangely masculine voice that doesn't quite match his look: "Good morning district twelve! What a wonderful video from our very own, President Snow! Let's give a round of applause…" He waits for us to join in with his applause, but everyone stays silent. "Alright, should we begin? Yes, here we go. I'm going to start with the men this year." He reaches his polished hand into the bowl, and pulls out the first name. He clears his throat, eyes scanning the crowd, "Hector Maclay."
Movement catches my eye to the right, as I see a boy a lot younger than me move to the front. As I catch his eye, I see a tear glisten down his cheek. He knows he's going to die, since he's only 13, not to mention from the lowest district. He walks up on stage, shakes Argus's hand, and walks next to the mentor, Luka. Argus picks up the mic again.
"Welcome Hector! I'm so glad you can join us! Now for the second tribute," He takes another name, again from the boys. "Haymitch Abernathy." Everyone around me looks at me, and takes a step away from me. I walk to the front, as fellow classmates and friends pat me on the back sympathetically. I catch my girlfriend Gwendolen's eye, and her face is red and filled with tears. My younger brother Tristan is turned around and embracing my mother. I walk, silently, up those creaky steps and onto the stage. I shake Argus's sweaty hand, as he gives me a smile that makes me regret even looking at his face. Our mentor Luka seems completely out of it, but he catches my eye and shakes my hand. His hand is limp and cold.
Luka had won one of the first hunger games accidentally. He was one of the most ignorant tributes that had ever been in the arena but had the best luck. In the bloodbath, he took off with no food, water, or weapons, but only after 10 minutes of running he came across a deserted area with a backpack filled with food and a knife, and was next to a running stream, which just so happened was the only water source in the arena. Since Luka was so tall, no one went near him, which made about ¾ of the tributes die of dehydration.
About a week later, when Luka was part of the last five, the announcer told all the tributes that at the cornucopia there was a way to win the hunger games, he decided to go there. In the midst of the scramble to get there, he met the pack of careers, who decided it was better to kill him off before getting to the cornucopia. Luka had no experience in combat, but when the careers came after him, Luka stabbed one of them with his knife. The other two hit each other accidentally, and both were killed in the confusion. After hearing the two cannons Luka turned to face his final combatant. He ran towards him, tripped on a rock, and fell on him. Luka was knocked unconscious, but was so heavy that the final career could not get him off, and Luka suffocated him. The final cannon sounded, and the first tribute from district twelve ever to return from the hunger games went home. Since then, there has been no one who has won the hunger games from district 12. No mentors but Luka.
Suddenly I hear Argus' voice, pulling me back into reality. "Now for the girls. The first female tribute is...Eris Tacy." A small girl from the Seam walks through the crowd and toward the stage. I've never seen her before, but she looks to be about 14. I look for signs of fear or disbelief or even anger in her, but there is nothing. Her face is blank.
Once she takes her place on the stage, Argus reaches his hand back into the girl's bowl to pick the fourth and final tribute from district twelve. He holds up the slip of paper and reads: "Maysilee Donner." I recognize Maysilee as she breaks free of the grip of two sobbing girls and walks up onto the stage. I think she used to be my friend at school when I was young. She's around my age, and as she turns to take her place next to Eris our eyes lock. I can tell immediately she's not one of the usual idiots picked. Maysilee's not accepting death; like me, she's ready to fight for survival.
I take one last look at the audience. At my girlfriend. She's wiping her tears, trying to stay together for my family. For me.
I sit in an ornate room in the Justice Building, in front of which the reaping was held ten minutes ago. I know that I can't say more than a quick goodbye to my girlfriend and my family. I'm certain that if I spend too much time with them it will be that much harder to leave, and I need to be emotionally prepared for anything once I leave. If I don't start planning and thinking now, I'll have no shot at winning, and I need to win. I sit in my chair and watch the door, waiting for what will be the worst thing that I've even had to go through.
First Gwendolen comes, nervously walking through the door. She's holding on, but barely. I stand up, and she crosses over to me. We stand like that for a second, then she falls into my arms as silent tears stream down her face. I hold her tightly and press my lips to hers, tasting the salt from her tears, then I pull back and look into her dark gray eyes, but she bites her lip and looks away. "Look at me," I whisper. "Look at me. I'm going to come back. I will come back to you. Now you have to go."
She walks to the door before turning and saying, so quietly I have to strain to hear it, "I love you."
"I love you too," I answer. Then she's gone.
I barely have time to recollect myself before my mother and Tristan walk in. Tristan runs up and hugs me, telling me that he won't let me go, he won't let me leave district twelve. My mother just stands and stares at me, still with the same horrified expression on her face as when Argus first called my name. Hard to believe that was only fifteen minutes ago. I grab my mom's hands. "Don't worry," I say. "I'll be back. I'll win and come back and we'll all have extra food and we'll be able to live in a nice house in Victor's Village."
My mom looks at me and chokes out: "I just don't want to lose you. I love you."
"You can't leave!" Tristan cries.
"I have to Tristan," I say as gently as I can. I tuck his blonde hair behind his ear, and look into his blue-grey eyes. "I love you both. Take care of eachother. Goodbye."
"Goodbye," my mom says, and drags Tristan out of the room. Then I am all alone. I made it through the goodbyes, but this is just the beginning. The beginning of the 50th hunger games.