Odette's 96th Hunger Games
A/N: Oh no! A Hunger Games FanFiction…? No, Furyfur, don't do it! You're going to ruin the whole thing! You can't try and stand up to the Hunger Games! You'll just ruin it for yourself and everyone else!
Spoiler warning, but only really for the first book…Please review and make me happy!
~Odette's 96th Hunger Games~
District 8 is such a noisy place. I despise it. No, let me rephrase that: I despise all of the Districts. One through twelve. All of them. Well, almost all of them.
My name is Odette Crywire.
I am sixteen years old.
I am the last surviving member of District 13.
I moved to District 8 when I was ten, so it was six years ago. District 13 was destroyed before that, but I refuse to leave the scattered, ashy debris of what used to be my home and my family. I'm been deeply afraid of explosions since then. I was too young to handle it. I definitely did not want to leave District Used-To-Be-13 and move to a District closer to 1. I trained on the ashes for years. When I did get over my grudge and decided to move, I was faced with a choice. They wouldn't except me in District 1, nor would I except them. After living what seemed to be a full life, though only ten years, in District 13, I couldn't bear to begin living in another poor District like 12. Ever since Katniss Everdeen's fluke Hunger Game victory had come to an end, District 12's glory had been settling back to normal little by little. If you ask me, something inside their souls in dying. They never had another victor, anyway, so who cares?
So I settled for a spot in the middle. I joined District 8. Being honest, it's really not all that bad. Too loud, but not as noisy and obnoxious as District 1 by far. It's miles and miles away from District 1, and still a sizably distance from District 12. A lot of places to work. Frankly, I found the work kind of boring, but not boring enough to wrack at my sanity. What does bug me is that, in the whole six years I've been living here, I haven't made a single acquaintance. No one to call "friend." I stayed away from everyone in fear that I would have to explain where I got my bleach-white pale skin and sun-golden eyes from. It was simple: The sky was gray in District 13. My eyes are the thieves that stole the sun. It almost sounds poetic.
Every year, a reaping takes place here. The same can be said for the other eleven Districts. In District 1 and the other rich Districts, reapings are almost-and it sickens me to say this-a happy occasion. In District 12, it's horrible. Here, being a middle District, it's kind of an anxious feeling. Not happy, but not sad either. It depends who you are, really. A few people-barely any, but few still-have prepared for such an occasion as getting your name drawn. I imagine it with a shiver. All their lives, they've been training for the Games. It must be horrible. All my life, I've been training for a war with District 1.
All the twelve-year-olds, however, are allowed to be scared. No one likes it when twelve-year-olds are chosen. It takes the fun out of things, I guess.
For me, reapings are boring. With all the people putting their names in more than once, I don't have a chance of being chosen. First were the poor people who needed the food. Not many people were poor here, but it wasn't exactly uncommon. Second was the people who needed the grain and oil for work. Some were just lazy, but there was only a handful of people like that here. Lastly, really dedicated fighters and people who have trained all their life put their names in more than once to "save the smaller people the trouble," according to Richie Hansen, a snot-nosed punk from my school.
My name is only entered once, every year. That's because I'm not stupidly head-over-heels in self-glory, and I don't need the food. Hunting may be illegal here, but no one's watching at night. I resorted to nocturnal prey, preserving my roots in District 13. Killing is a hobby. It makes me feel good.
You won't believe this, but most of my food actually comes from owls. I catch them with traps I set up in trees. It's a shame, actually. I love owls. They're swift, strong, silent, and hunt by night. They're just like me.
So, the odds are pretty much with me. Then why were the odds defied? I'm not unlucky like Katniss Everdeen.
"Odette Crywire."
My eyes snapped to attention from where I was daydreaming. I looked behind me. Who had said my name?
"Odette Crywire? Are you here?"
I realized with unspoken shock where the voice was coming from. The mayor.
Without thought of the matter, I began walking forward.
"Odette? Odette, where are-"
"I'm right here," I snapped. "I'm Odette Crywire."
The audience roared with respect. It was music to my ears. I felt stronger, but I still hadn't completely taken in what had happened.
Looking to my left, it took a great amount of effort not to laugh out loud. Richie Hansen was the male contestant representing District 8. A boy the windblown brown hair and determined brown eyes. The boy who entered his name more than once to save the weaker people the trouble of dying on live TV.
One emotion ran through my body at that moment. It wasn't anger. It wasn't happiness, nor was it fear, or any kind of competitive feeling.
It was complete and utter disrespect.
~Odette's 96th Hunger Games~
By the time an hour had passed on the train, I could feel the flames of Hell licking at my feet.
I realized what had happened.
My eyes are waterproof. I never cry. I think that my eyes are golden sand dunes that suck up any liquid that enter them. Unlike the stupid girly messes of people I see at school, my eyes don't "sparkle" or "glitter." I'm not even positive they're alive.
I became positive, however, when I began to cry silently to myself.
Thank God I'm alone. I thought to myself, wiping away the salty ocean that dripped from the sand dunes. The stolen sun of District 13. The taste of salt was unnatural.
And I'll be alone for awhile. This was the time everyone was visited by their friends and family, but I had none, so I can just sit here and cry it out. Besides the steady humming of the train, it was silent. Solitude. I love that word. Not only did it just roll off the tongue, it was also the most peaceful feeling in the world. When I was in solitude, there were no Districts. No people, even. Just quiet and lots of space to think. Blank nothingness. I love it.
There was a knock on the door.
"Are you crying in there?" a soft voice said. The first thought that entered my mind was that Richie had come to laugh at me, but I shook that idea away. That wasn't his voice.
"No," I blurted. "Who's that?"
"Can I come in?" the soft voice said. I smoothed my wavy brown hair and pushed the blush away from my eyes. I didn't give an answer, though.
The door opened slowly. Despite the female tint in the voice, it was a boy. He had brown eyes…They were…There was a word. Beautiful? No, that wasn't it. It sounded too unreal. They were…Pure. He had blonde-no, snow white-hair that hung all the way onto his back. There was nothing male about him. In fact, there was nothing human about him. He was…Pure.
"Why in the world did you…?"
"District 1, Ryo. You?" he said in barely a whisper. He had a dream catcher around his neck and spoke in a British accent. Just by looking into his eyes I could read his entire past. It was like looking into a strange peaceful transition between life and death. He didn't need to speak; his eyes told his story.
His parents were killed and he had witnessed it. They were murdered. He had felt their blood on his hand. The word "murderer" was stuck in the corner of his mind. It didn't want to go away. Not the word or the horrible memory. I saw who did it, but…I quickly pushed that matter out of my mind. It wouldn't matter for now.
It was almost unfair the way he communicated with me. He didn't speak, but he sat with me and rubbed his hand against my spine with his knuckles. I couldn't hide my emotions in front of him because the stinging glare of his eyes just pushed them out. I didn't speak either; but I cried. I cried and I didn't stop. My parents, my friends, this boy's family, and all of District 13…How many losses were there in this world? And with the next Hunger Games, there will only be more…
That boy wouldn't leave me alone. No, more like I wouldn't leave him alone. He suggested places we should go explore and I agreed with him. We stayed together all until they called us in to eat.
Someone somewhere was making some long speech, but Ryo and I were wrapped in conversation. I realized that I haven't even told him my name, but he was polite enough to put up with me. I blushed and felt a rush of guilt.
"I'm Odette, by the way," I snuck in during our conversation. With all the pandemonium of the Hunger Games and both of our losses, Ryo had other things to talk about. I envied his lifestyle. He only had time to think about things that were…here's that word again…Pure. I almost wanted to ask him what Heaven was like and if the other angels were nice to him.
He didn't ask what District. It was as if my eyes had told his eyes that I didn't want to be asked. He said, "Odette. Nice to meet you."
"I'm…District 8."
He gave up. "Are you sure?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't belong there."
That brought up another point in my already-cluttered mind. Did this boy even belong in District 1? No. I decided. The only place this boy belongs I wherever he goes.
"Where do you belong?"
I thought about this. I wanted to change the subject. He seemed to have gotten the message, but he waited patiently, as if eager to hear my answer.
"Dead."
He kept the same facial expression. His eyes were inviting me to share my story, or to let my feelings out. This time, I answered to his eyes.
"I can't here-There are too many people."
"Okay."
I looked away. There was another factor that wasn't fair: He could see my eyes and know everything, but I had to make eye contact. While he was distracted, only who or whatever he looked at got the emotional flow his eyes brought on. Ryo had magic powers. That was the only explanation.
As soon as they let us eat, I lost my appetite. Ryo didn't seem hungry either, but he still wanted me to eat. I wasn't getting tired of this boy. In fact, I loved him. Yes, I was sure of that. His lost, ignorant yet all-knowing eyes, his bleached hair that seemed to be rising up towards Heaven…I felt like a child. This is what bliss felt like. He made me smile, this boy. I didn't want to leave him. He's too pure.
The pure feeling was soon gone, however.
"Hello, I'm Temperance Jay. What's yours?"
I decided to be a little free with information toward this girl with short brown hair who so rudely interrupted my thoughts. In fact, Ryo made me feel rebellious towards District 1. I want them to get some good dirt. So, here I go.
"Odette Crywire, last surviving member of District 13, transferred into District 8," I said, ice in my voice.
She looked stunned. In fact, everyone within earshot looked stunned. I kept the same expression and felt a deep proud surge of emotion.
"I'm District 12."
"Then you'll be the first to die."
That really put her down.
She pointed towards Ryo. "What's that dream catcher thingy around your neck?"
I almost seemed offended. Such impure words towards such a pure person…It was…horrible, almost. I wanted to slap her.
"This is an ancient Egyptian artifact that my father gave to me before he died. I'm Ryo, by the way." He spoke as quietly as he did with me. His voice would strain if he tried to raise it. I pouted, not wanting him to talk to the girl any more. Temperance. What a stupid name. Maybe I was just jealous…
"Well, I'll see you two later," she said. She turned and walked away. I immediately needed to complain to someone, and Ryo was the only one left.
"'I'll see you two later,' she says! The next time we see her, we're literally going to be killing each other! It doesn't make any sense how she-"
"It's alright," Ryo said in a voice that could've calmed the Big Bang. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, whatever. I'll be right back…" I started to sulk off in the direction of the bathroom. I needed some alone time.
I stopped in my tracks when Ryo pulled me back with his arms wrapped around me. He buried his face in my back. I could feel him smiling.
"If you're angry, I'm here for you," he said softly. I nodded, escaped his embrace, and walked away, wondering what had just happened. I felt an odd satisfaction in knowing he was happy. I had pleased an angel. Clearly I was blessed.
Turning a corner in the complicated hotel, I found what seemed to automatically bring on another headache.
I saw Temperance again, locking lips with some dirty-blonde boy who was so tall he needed to arch his back to reach her level. I panicked.
They're making out! I thought, suppressing a gasp. Should I look away?
While I continued watching them, another dirty thought entered my own head. The thought alone questioned my compatibility with Ryo. Maybe I was too impure for him. Well, I'm a teenager, alright. Only a teenager could think such a thought. I was drowned in a weird emotion. The thought told me that I wasn't worthy of Ryo.
Lucky them.
~Odette's 96th Hunger Games~
I'm sorry! Don't make fun of me for adding Ryo! He wasn't my idea! He was iceshadow4's! Blame her! =sob, sob=
I counted how many times I said the word "District" in this chapter. 32 times. Yay. ~Furyfur