Stop all the clocks: A Bad Beginning
Knock, knock.
"Mum they're here," I called up the stairs as I ran to the front door and yanked it open.
Standing behind it were my mum's old friend Gale Hawthorne and his family; his wife Johanna Mason and their two children. Their son Taylor was two years older than me at eighteen, and their daughter Laurel was a year older than me at seventeen. She and I had never gotten along particularly well; I found her spoilt and superficial and she looked down on me for getting my hands dirty playing outside and baking. Apparently in District 2 girls don't do that sort of thing. But Taylor and I were fast friends and had been for as long as I could remember. He gave me a crooked smile when he saw me and pulled me into one of his rib-cracking hugs.
"Taylor, I c-can't breathe," I managed to stammer out. He let go of me, laughing.
"Sorry Molly, I forget how fragile you are." My name's really Margaret but everybody calls me Molly.
"The problem isn't that I'm 'fragile' the problem is that you're like eight feet tall!" I retorted, sticking my tongue out at him very maturely. I then turned to Gale, "it's lovely to see you again Mr Hawthorne, won't you all come in and make yourselves at home. Mum's just upstairs trying to find the tablecloth and Dad's putting the finishing touches to the Christmas dinner. The others are already in the living room." By "the others" I meant Haymitch, Effie Trinket, Annie Odair and her son Finnbar and my mum's mother; the people we always have round on Christmas day. I think my parents like to have a full house on days like this; it helps to keep them from thinking of all the people that should be here but aren't. Auntie Prim. Mum's father. Daddy's parents.
The list goes on.
In the living room everybody's chatting and exchanging gifts. My twelve-year-old brother Dylan was unwrapping the cat's Christmas presents for her, as, lacking opposable thumbs, Daisy couldn't manage it herself. Don't ask me why our cat has presents; Dylan buys them for her. He loves that thing. I do not. And from the way Daisy growls every time she sees me I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual. Taylor smiled at me, bringing me out of my reverie, and pushed a small, square parcel into my hand.
"What's this? We don't usually get each other presents Taylor."
"I know, but you having this is going to benefit me too." He said with a secret smile.
I scowled and opened the wrapping, discovering beneath it an ornate compact mirror. "If you think I need to improve my personal grooming there are subtler ways of saying it." I told him, eyebrow raised.
"No silly, open it and look into the glass."
I did as I was told (a rarity for me) and was shocked to see not myself reflected in its smooth surface but Taylor. I turned to him to see he was holding a similar mirror in his own hands.
"They're video messaging devices, disguised as mirrors," he explained to me. "I thought they could help us keep in touch when my family and I leave tonight and go back to District 2."
Taylor and I had always hated parting. Once, when he was 10 and I was 8 we actually packed a sandwich and a spare outfit each and attempted to run away together. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the air smelt of honeysuckle; it was one of those perfect times when anything seems possible. Of course, we didn't get further than the Meadow before our parents caught up with us; turned out Greasy Sae had seen us on our way and ratted us out. This compact was the perfect present.
"Thank you Taylor," I said sincerely.
"Hopefully that thing will reduce our phone bill slightly," my Dad joked from behind me. "Your mother and I actually have another present for you too Molly." With that my mum appeared behind him holding a little black velvet box. She handed it to me silently and everybody watched as I lifted the lid to reveal the most beautiful necklace I'd ever seen. They'd hung mum's mockingjay pin on a pure gold chain for me.
"But this is yours," I said to mum, disbelieving.
"Well now it's yours," she told me firmly.
I embraced her and Dad, whispering my thanks to them, then we all went into the dining room for Christmas dinner.
The rest of the day passed in a haze of good cheer and high spirits. Until our bubble was burst by the ten o'clock news.
"Hello Panem," the fateful reporter's affected Capitol accent rang out. "Happy Christmas, it is my pleasure on this very merry day to hand over to our new President, Leila Hope, for a very special announcement."
President Hope's face appeared on the screen. She was a fairly attractive woman in her fifties with navy blue hair and crimson lips. "Hello Panem," she said. "I am delighted to announce that this year will see a treat for all of us; the return of one of the nation's favourite forms of entertainment. I'm sure you'll all join me in celebrating the return of the Hunger Games!"
The room fell silent. The first voice to speak was Haymitch's: "there's no way they'll get away with this. The people follow their mockingjay, not some namby pamby woman calling herself our leader."
There was a murmur of agreement from the room. But then President Hope opened her blood-red mouth again.
"Of course this decision has been taken with great care. The final call was made by a panel made up of those most qualified in this area."
"Who?" My mum yelled, outraged. "None of her pathetic government know what it's like in there!" She was close to screaming, her eyes filling with desperate tears. Daddy put his strong, reassuring arm around her and tried to comfort her. The screen cut from the President's mansion to a group of people. They were voting on whether or not to have another Hunger Games. My breath caught in my throat as I recognised younger versions of Johanna, Haymitch and my parents amongst them.
"People that have experienced the games themselves," Hope's voice continued.
"It seems very fair to me. I vote yes." Young Johanna declared.
"I vote yes . . . For Prim," my young mother declared. She looked so battered and withdrawn and the TV quickly cut, without warning, to a shot of the bomb that killed my aunt. Emotive, thoughtless, tactless. That was the Capitol for you. I heard my mother give a sort of breathless sob next to me.
Young Haymitch then spoke. "I'm with the mockingjay," he said.
"Just as I hope the rest of you will be," President Hope said as the screen cut back to her. I notice that they've cut out whatever my Dad and Annie said. Considering their mild temperaments they were probably both against it.
"I don't think we're going to be able to get out of this." Gale said matter-of-factly.
"No," my Mum said. "The people will follow their mockingjay. If it weren't for that footage people would probably rebel. But now . . . I don't think there's any escape."
I felt like I'd been punched in the chest.