I wake up and run through my life in my head, as I have since I was 11.
My name is Mabel Ramour. I am 14. I live in District 10, Panem. I lived with my parents and older brother, John. He was in the 67th Hunger Games and he was 17. He made it to the final 3, but was killed. Which was an "upmost pity" in the Capitol; they had loved him. My mother wasn't the same afterwards. She got easily distracted and lost in her thoughts. She died in a herding accident a year later. Afterwards, at the age of 11 and a half, I was "adopted" by a rich-ish family that took pity on me, the Furrows. My dad had taught me loads of survival skills; before he disappeared … Today is the Reaping, and my name is in their 58 times more than last year making the total close to 200. The odds are not in my favor…
By then I was awake and didn't feel like reliving my life again. I looked out the window and saw the soft golden glow of the sun beginning to rise. I got dressed in my usual outfit of jeans, an old gray shirt and an old forest green sweater. I pulled on my boots and quietly headed outside.
The district is always very quiet this early. As I stroll around aimlessly I can smell breakfasts being prepared. By the time people started coming out of their homes, the sun was a large gold disk on the horizon that basks everything in its golden light. I wave hello to everyone I pass and then head back to the Furrows' place. They have no kids, which is probably why they took me in. They're nice people but, I miss my family too much to accept them as my family.
Mrs. Furrow is starting breakfast when I walk in the door: pancakes and ham. The smell wafts over me and makes my mouth water, that is, until I remember why we are having ham: the Reaping. I always forget about it, but, how can I? How can I forget when it marks the fourth anniversary of when I last saw John, alive and well in person? The memory of that day still haunts me.
"How was your walk?" asked Mrs. Furrow, distracting me.
I smile as pleasantly as I can and say, "Wonderful."
"That's wonderful, dear. Now go wash up. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."
I walk through the kitchen to the sink and wash my hands. Then I set the table and get the morning milk from the front stoop. When I come back in, we all sit and eat. After, Mr. Furrow heads to the very front of the building to open the shop for awhile: The Furrows' run the general store. Mrs. Furrow soon goes to join him and I leave to wander again.
A few hours later I come back and take a bath. I dried off and slipped into my reaping outfit: a pine green dress that goes down to my knees. I then braid my hair into one long braid that ends at my waist. I slip on my flat brown shoes and head back to the kitchen where the Furrows were waiting. Then we head out to the square before the Justice Building. I check in and go into the roped off section for 14 year old girls and wait. Soon enough, the stupid clip that reminds us why there is the Hunger Games. Then Gallia Happener speaks.
"Welcome, welcome. To-day we will be choosing the tributes that will represent District 10 in the 70th Hunger Games. First, the ladies." She walked over to the glass bowl with all the girls' names in it. I can feel the tension in the air, everyone hoping they won't get picked… It seems like it took forever for her to pick a slip of paper and walk back to the mike. "Mariah Packard." I freeze. I know who she is. She's 12, and oldest of 5. She's an angel, a sweetheart. I used to live next door to her; the Packards have already lost one child in the Games… It can't be her, it can't be…
"Are there any volunteers?"
Before I can even register what I'm doing, I step forward and call out, "I volunteer!"
Only then do I realize what I've done; as everyone turns to look at me, and Gallia beckons me forward. Dazed, I walk forward. I reach the steps of the Justice Building and climb up. I glace at Mariah and she's shaking her head and crying, as though in disbelief of what I'd done.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" asks Gallia, bringing me back to earth.
"Mabel Ramour." As I said my name, I could almost here they hush that fell over the Capitol. Another Ramour, another fighter. Even Gallia stays quiet for a few moments before choosing the boy tribute's name. "Ralf Hunan." No one volunteers, probably all still shocked at what I had just done; I know I am.
Next thing I know, I'm inside the Justice Building, in a room, by myself. After a minute or so, a Peacekeeper opens the door and lets in the Furrows. Still a bit dazed, I don't hear what they say and allow myself to be swallowed in a hug from Mrs. Furrow. Then they leave and Mr. and Mrs. Packard come in.
"Mabel, thank you. And don't worry too much. Your dad taught you well." said Mr. Packard. I murmur back, "Thanks." Then they leave too.
My dad. I remember him well. Tall, tan, bright blue green eyes, and dark honey colored hair, like mine. He had taught John and me simple survival tactics: how to make a fire, shoot a bow, throw knifes, make snares, among other things. No one ever told me what happened to him. One day when I was 8, he went to work, and never came home.
Then a Peacekeeper came in and interrupted my thoughts. He escorted me to the train, and I climbed on. I sat down in a chair and watched my district fly past.