The president- President Thanos- draws a card out of the box.
"For the fourth Quarter Quell, to show that even the strongest alliance of districts is nothing against the might of the Capitol, a single alliance still complete at the end of the Games will be moved to a different arena and forced to undergo a series of trials set by the Gamemakers. Only one will remain."
The crowd shivers- many of them still remember the Third Quarter Quell, when the second rebellion started. A few more remember how it ended, but the thoughts are trapped under layers of fear.
District 10 has had two victors since the Second Rebellion, and one of them is my best friend. Bucky Barnes was in the 98th Hunger Games. He survived after falling off a cliff at fifty feet because he somehow punched through the snow at the bottom in just the right way that it hid him from the other competitors.
Lost an arm to frostbite in the end, though- not even the Capitol's doctors could fix it. When the TV recaps it like they do during the mandatory programming every year, there's a few minutes of interviews thrown in. I'm there, looking awkward and spidery as I face the camera. So are Bucky's mom and his girlfriend, seeming worried and tense but not as out of place on the velvet chairs as I do. Bucky teased me about being so small, and then later when my voice could only come out a squeak. I'm even bigger than him now, and I point it out every time I see him. The Victor's Village is almost a full day's travel from the cattle ranges, though, so I don't see him too often.
All too soon the mandatory programming's over, and that means it's time for the Reaping. I should be safe this year, since I don't have anyone to support with tessarae. Six tickets plus one for my own tessara, hidden in thousands. Bucky's up on stage, and so is the female victor, Fletch. She can't be much older than thirty, but her hair's all the way white. Junia- the young (looking) woman who's been drawing the names for years, is already reciting the Treaty of Treason. As far as escorts go, she's not as scary as some of the others- green curly hair, glittering green jewels embedded in her smooth skin, and a glittering dress that looks made of emeralds. Some of the others have fangs and glowing eyes, or batlike webs of jeweled skin between their fingers.
Her name makes me think of a junebug, though, heavy and sleepy and glittering.
Junia pulls out the female tribute's name- Darcy Lewis. The girl's only a year or two younger than me, with straight dark hair and patched-together glasses. She sneers at the camera as she walks past, but her shoulders are trembling.
And then Junia calls my name, and I look up. It takes me a moment to realize that she's read my name, that Steve Rogers is right on that piece of paper she's holding in her emerald fingernails, and there's a full contingent of Peacekeepers holding back Bucky as he tries to lunge for the podium and grab the paper away from her. Someone shoves me forwards and I climb the stairs. I don't remember much of what happens next, just that I ended up on a couch inside the Justice Building before they put us on the train to the Capitol.
It's a long time waiting to get on the train. Next door I can hear some of Darcy's family members sobbing.
The butcher, an amiable enough woman with frizzy grey hair, shows up. I've helped her with deliveries a few times. "Hey," I say awkwardly. She smiles and presses something into my hands- meat pies, probably. "Thank you," I respond.
"Thank you." She throws a smile over her shoulder as she leaves. I wait for another long while after she leaves, gripping the paper-wrapped pies in both hands.
Click. Click. Click.
Heels. Curly hair. Peggy.
"Steve?"
"Hey, Peggy."
It suddenly hits me that there's no way I'm coming back from this, but Peggy's still talking.
"When you come back you owe me a dance," she says. Her voice is cracking.
"You know," I say, "I still don't know how to dance."
"I'll show you how. Just be there."
We're not allowed much time, and the Peacekeepers are already coming in. One puts a hand on Peggy's arm and she twists away.
"We'll have the band play something slow." I answer her, as more come into the room. They're starting to physically drag her away now. "I'd hate to step on your-"
The door slides shut.