Chapter 1

-The Reaping-

The sun beats down on my dry, rough skin as I work back and forth on the resting log. I can feel cool, sticky sweat run down my neck and over my arched back. I have been working since five in the morning, well before the sun had even risen and yet, I don't feel tired. Even if I am tired I really don't know, because whatever I'm running on now is beyond fatigue. It's continuous, a storage so deep inside of me even I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the routine of it that keeps me going.

I was alone before, but now, the lumber fields are filled with workers. Most are middle- aged men, only a few are young. We young ones aren't generally allowed near the chopping fields; we're destined for other stations. Only big, sturdy and experienced men roam here. But it's ok. Everyone knows my dad and everyone knows my skills. I can chop a dead log twice my size in no time flat. If they'd let me, I could cut down the entire fields in a day and a night and for months, no one would have to work.

It's not that my cuts are clean or that my technique is extraordinary. It's because I can go longer. Once I start a job, I don't finish until the sun peeps back down to the horizon. I don't know how, but I can. I only stop for five minute water breaks, a piss or even a dump every now and then. Usually, the other workers scold me. Not out of annoyance but of concern. We're a tight bunch; we lumbers and we'd rather burn out a forest than burn out a fellow worker. Not that that pleases the Capitol.

And anyway...

It's Reaping Day.

Everyone knows and everyone dreads it, no matter what age you are. They're letting me work like this because come eleven o'clock, we'll know if I'll be slaving away at the chopping block or have my head rolling off a chopping block. I need something to take my mind off it or I'll go mad.

I'm seventeen now and so far, I have been lucky. Not once has my name been called up. No one in my family has ever been a tribute, at least, no one I can remember. The odds have been in our favour and hopefully, it'll stay that way.

A finger taps me on the shoulder and instantly, my tightened muscles loosen and soon my fingers release the handle of the saw I have been clutching for the past two and a half hours. I turn my face into the blazing sun and with no aforethought; my hand goes up to my face.

It is Billyson Midds. Billy for short. Or Son. Or Middy. Sometimes, if I really feel like pushing him, I call him Muds. He pretends to be angry at first, even shoves me, but then his flustered face softens and soon he grins. Uncle Billy is like that. He can never stay angry for too long. He is an aging man though. Not young enough to be reaped, not old enough to carry a cane. Somewhere in the middle. He has been like a second father to my family, ever since I can remember. And he ages like one too. He doesn't have kids of his own and so every wrinkle created from worry and anxiety can be traced back to my brothers and sister. And of course, myself.

He gives me a sad smile and clasps my shoulder. "You've been working all morning Flux. Take a break. Go back home for a bit."

I shake my head and pick up my saw. "No. Not yet. I haven't finished-"

The look on his face stops me. He looks so sad all of a sudden. His face seems sunken and hollow and in a moment, he looks older than he does. And he's not skinny or anything. Our District isn't poor, but of course, we're not well off either. We don't live the high life of Districts 1 and 2, but we certainly aren't dying of starvation like District 12.

So what is it?

"What?" I ask, "What is it?"

"I have a bad feeling about today," he says quietly, "About the Reaping."

"Don't worry," I laugh, "You're too old."

He smiles but he ignores my comment. "What if...what if you're reaped this year?"

"I doubt it," I say. I actually don't doubt it. Getting reaped is a very real possibility but that's not my problem. It's the whole concept of the thing. Sure, I don't like the other Districts all that much but that doesn't mean I want to kill anyone. Especially if it's senseless and completely avoidable. It makes me sick to the stomach and that's what really ticks me off. I'm not afraid of death but nor do I welcome it.

Billy knows this and soon his expression hardens. "Let's toss you aside. What if Del is reaped? Then what?"

Of all my family, only my twin and I are eligible to be reaped. Everyone else has surpassed the age.

Delphi is a girl, which really isn't that great. It makes the two of us becoming tributes for our District even more possible. I'm still older, by a few minutes but that doesn't change the fact that we are carbon copies of each other. Excepting the length of hair and you know...the bits. I know her inside out, like I do myself. The muddy brown of our dust ridden hair and the pale blue of our eyes never fail to haunt our fellow district men. We move in synch, even when we don't mean to. I finish her sentences as she does mine. I fail a test, she fails. I succeed, she succeeds.

But she's not like me. Death and destruction makes her squeal. Stepping on an ant gets the water works going. I don't care for myself, but if she were reaped I don't know what I'd do. She's my other half.

I chew on Billy's question for a while. What if she is? What can I do anyway? Nothing of course.

I suddenly feel angry at Billy. For hours, I had been able to push the Games out of my head and now look at what he's done! I feel like shoving him, tell him to stick a plank up his nose and leave me be. But I know he means well. He loves me and my family like his own and I can't bear the thought of hurting him.

I pick up my saw again and heave it over my shoulder. I know what he's saying and I hear it loud and clear, but I need to stay here for longer. I need to.

He sees this in my face and nods.

And then, he does something unprecedented. With his bear like arms, he grabs me, nearly winding me in the process and wraps his arms around me. If this is what it is like to die in the Arena by strangulation, then I am getting a very good demonstration.

I wiggle a little bit, indicating my lack of oxygen and so, Billy loosens a little. But now he is crying and soon, everyone is looking at us. He doesn't seem to care though. He just strokes my hair and tells me incoherent things I don't understand. But I don't complain. I just let him hold me.


By the time I leave the fields, the people of my District are already moving to the Centre Square. I am half dressed, only just managed to wash my hair in a nearby creek. In fact, I am still buttoning my shirt as I move through the crowd.

I'm searching for her and I'm wondering whether she's already there, firm and still as she stands in her age group. She's probably scowling and swearing viciously to herself, cursing my tardiness.

There are so many people heading to the Centre, we seem to be moving as one entity. All their heads are becoming a blur and it becomes increasingly difficult to tell anyone apart. I begin pushing roughly through the crowd and I am so focused on finding her that I don't notice the figure in front of me.

I shove into them and we both go sprawling onto the ground, my face making welcome with the ground.

"Watch it!" she screeches, pulling herself back up. My face still planted on the ground, my ears prick up as I recognize the voice. I flip myself back onto my bottom and smiled apologetically.

Delphi stands before me, arms crossed and very unimpressed. Her hair has been pulled up in a clean pony tail and a brown pleated dress flaps against her legs. She grabs my arm and roughly pulls me up to my feet as she pushes me into a nearby stall.

"Where have you been?" she asks, emphasising each word with a poke in the arm.

"In the fields, you lunatic," I exclaim, brushing away her violent hand.

"It shows," she says cruelly. I sigh and place my hands on my hips. The crowd is still moving, all with a sullen and deflated look on their face. No one enjoys the Reaping, the Games or the outcome.

Regardless of who wins.

I look back to my sister and notice her face has fallen.

"You should have been home an hour ago," She says quietly.

That's true. It's ten to eleven and soon, the televised reaping of District 7 will be broadcast. But like that really bothers me.

"What does it matter?" I say roughly, crossing my arms.

"Everything,"

She says it so quietly, I don't even know if she said it.

She looks down to her feet, her chest heaving as if each breath is a physical labour. She seems to be on the verge of tears, but for what I have no idea.

Well that's a lie. I know exactly what it is.

I place both hands on her shoulders and look right into her eyes, seeing myself in them.

"Everything is going to be alright, ok?" I say, "Nothing's going to go wrong today,"

"How do you know?" She asks, her eyes beginning to brimming with tears, "How can you be so sure?"

"I'm not," I shrug, "But, we've been lucky so far, haven't we? All I can do is hope. And should you,"

I take her hand and together we walk back onto the street, joining the steady crowd. She does not say a word and I bet she's wondering how I do it.

Coping.

When our pig Missy died, I had just sat down, let out one huff and got back to my work. When our tributes died last year, I just shook my head. I can sit through an entire Hunger Games without battering an eyelid and Del is left wailing silently to herself as we watch each and every tribute die on screen.

I think Del looks up to me, in a 'how do you do it' sort of way. But the truth is, I don't even know how I do it. I think there's something inside of me, something that used to wail and batter its fists against the wall at this sick game but now...I think it's dead. It's buried deep inside of me and I know it'll never come back out. I've watched the Games too many times and I've become desensitised. It no longer affects me. I think it's because I believe it will never happen to me. It's always to someone else's child, brother, sister or friend. It's always someone else.

Is it confidence? Or is it arrogance?

I have no idea.


By the time we get to the Centre Square, it is already four minutes to eleven. Evidently, the walk to the Centre had taken longer than expected. The age groups have already formed and it does not take me long to find 'MALE-17'.

Del spots her group. We stand there for a few minutes, unable to let go of each other's hand. She looks to me and I to her. I smile, trying to look as reassuring as I possibly can. We exchange a hug and go our separate ways.

I sneak my way into my group, squeezing between Ovid Avery and Richyard Gelbing. I push my hair back and squirm at the sticky sensation on my back. I ended up coming home so late, I practically ran out of house dripping wet and half naked.

I look towards the stage and see that everything has already been set up, the two glass balls set upon the stage. They are filled with hundreds of pieces of paper, each with black ink names scrawled upon them.

A knot forms in my chest at the site of them; those glass spheres hold our futures.

As my eyes scan the situation, I see that Mayor Brin has seated himself as has our District Escort Skene Odinshoot.

If I hadn't have known earlier, I wouldn't have realised that Skene was a male. He is decked from head to toe in bright, orange feathers that accentuate at his hips. His face is deathly white, his lips a sickening tangerine hue. His sleek wig seems to be stuck to his head with a super-strength adhesive, for not even a single hair moves. Capitol citizens sicken me, with all their bright colours and silly voices. Every time I am reminded, I feel like throwing a fit.

The District 7 Tribute Mentor, Johanna Mason sits to Skene's right. She's relatively young, considering she won not long ago. Her brown hair has been pulled up in a bun and her white dress is pressed. She looks quite neutral, but a subtle undercurrent of severe discomfort flits in her face. She twitches her nose and instantly I am remind of Del.

Del.

I lean forward a little and peer into the 'FEMALE-17' block right across. All I see is rows upon rows of long-legged, pleated gown girls all still and sombre as they wait for Skene's all deciding words. I crane my neck a little, trying to be as subtle as I can because I am completely aware the cameras are already rolling. Any sign of out of place movement would have the vicious heads swing my way.

She's not hard to find, not really. It's like looking for me, but in a dress. Actually that's really unfair. Delphi is pretty, in a meek and underappreciated way. To call her a boy in a dress is an awful thing to say.

When I finally catch her eye, her expression is completely dispassionate. It's as if she doesn't even know me. She blinks a few times before taking her gaze back to the stage.

Mayor Brin has taken centre stage and at the exact chime of eleven, he speaks. I tune out at this point; I've listened too many times. It's all standard procedure, it's all blah, blah, blah and I really can't stand it. These words don't change anything, they don't save anyone so why bother listening?

Del stands to attention though, her arms at her sides, listening dutiful to our Mayor.

Del's like that. It's why she looked so indifferent just seconds ago. She's scared of her own shadow but she won't show anyone. She's too proud. Especially when she's being filmed for all of Panem to see. She's only doing what we've all been told to do; 'if you're chosen, don't appear upset. Look indifferent. Throw your shoulders back and pretend that you don't care. No one wants to sponsor a simpering wimp.'

Her insides are probably churning like a pit as she, along with everyone else, just wishes this would end.

My eyes flick to the large screens assembled to my left and watch as the cameras fling from the crowd to the stage and back. I secretly hope my face would appear on the screen, so I can tell the Capitol exactly what I think of them.

There is a hush amongst the crowd as Skene Odinshoot takes to the stage. His feathers ruffle wildly in the breeze as he walks and I am reminded of a malting mockingjay.

He stands in front of the mike and offers our District a broad, toothy smile which certainly is not returned.

"Happy Hunger Games!" he bellows into the mike, "And may the odds be ever in your favour!"

Don't jinx it now.

My concentration slips in and out as Skene blabbers on and on about how he feels absolutely honoured to be our District Escort, the brilliant integrity of our people and our District as a whole. I would like to tell him just where he can stick his 'kind' words although I doubt it'd be able to get past all those feathers.

With no prior thought, my ears prick up involuntarily and I can sense that Del is tuning in too.

"And now, for the exciting part! Just who exactly, will your female tribute be?" he chuckles to himself, evidently impressed by his self-manufactured suspense.

The crowd remains silent and I am glad. At least none of us condone this game.

Skene daintily walks over to the glass bowl and sticks his hand in. He ruffles around a bit before he finally selects one piece of paper. He licks his painted lips and smiles as he unravels the paper in his hand.

There is absolute silence amongst the crowd and I can personally hear my own heart thumping against my chest. My mouth goes dry and my palms begin to sweat. I can only imagine how I feel when the male tribute is selected.

Skene gives one last smile before he utters the unfortunate name.

"Delphi Elphinstone!"

My heart drops into my stomach and my stomach consequently out of my anus.

The name repeats itself in my head over and over again and yet, it still does not register.

Delphi. Delphi Elphinstone.

My twin.

My sibling.

My sister.

Female tribute for District 7.

A glimmer of hope shimmers through me as I wonder if they are referring to another Delphi Elphinstone. But no, no, there she is. There's Del pushing her way out of her group, stony faced and sullen as she proceeds to the stage. Her thin arms swing at her sides slightly, her legs completely robotic. Something inside me wishes to scream at her to stop, but my mouth does not open and my hands remain at my sides as my District applauds quietly.

The murmuring has died down a little, but that does not stop the ringing in my ears. Del stands strong on the stage, looking completely ahead as though something from a distance has caught her attention.

The ringing subsides for a minute and in that time, I hear something that almost makes me fall over.

"Flux Elphinstone!"

In the time I had spent swaying on my feet with birds fluttering before my ears, Skene had dunked his hand into the 'male sphere' and plucked my name from the pickings.

I'm still glued to the spot and even as the camera focuses on me, I don't move. I lurch forward as someone pushes me from behind. I look back and shoot him a dirty look, wondering how he can encourage this.

He responds with a desperate look in his eyes, silently screaming at me to walk to the stage and take my place. I know he pities me, but I also know half of him is sighing in relief. He's been saved.

Slowly, but surely, I push my way through and begin to walk up. The crowds may be clapping but I cannot hear them. I can hear my own breathing, my heart slowly pumping. My vision begins to blur a little as I get closer and closer. I lock my gaze on my poor sister and as she looks to me, I look away.

I cannot bear it.

A million thoughts are running through my head and it is a mere miracle I make it up the stage. I'm quietly infuriated with myself as I think of my words this morning;

'Nothing wrong is going to happen.'

Skene smiles at me and addresses the crowd with words I cannot hear. The crowd responds with half-hearted claps. There's not much to celebrate; their tributes are siblings. I hear a few more muffled words and see my hand reach out and clasp Delphi's as we are made to shake hands. I clutch so tightly, her skin goes pale. And all the while, I avoid her gaze.

Skene separates us and holds each of our hands. He hesitates a little, as though he has just realised the sticky situation we are in. But ever so quickly, he sticks his happy face on and hoists our arms into the air.

"Ladies and gentleman of District 7, I give you your tributes for the 74th Hunger Games!"


AN: I only just read the Hunger Games and this little number popped into my head. It'll be relatively short story...you needn't endure my incompetence for long!

Anyway, I'd really appreciate a review! Just to see if this seems interesting...