Rue's POV
I wake up in the morning, feeling faint after last night's excruciating journey.
Thresh had met me at the apple orchard, or as we called it, our haven. in the orchard, we could stash extra food, valuables, and anything else we used on a daily basis in the wooden box my father - now deceased - had put in the hollow of the old oak tree where my mother and father met.
My mother is African-American, as was my father, but my mother is one of the rare girls in the district who was born with naturally blond hair. With a white great-grandmother, it was unlikely that she would be passed down the genes. but she was one of the fortunate ladies who were lucky enough to have the long, luscious blond hair that the boys fell head over heels for. Anyways, at the orchard, Thresh had me backed up against a tree, planting a light kiss on my lips, my stomach churning, and skin bubbling as his hand started to travel beneath the hem of my shirt onto my lower back.
"Thresh..." I growl, warning in my voice.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, leaning his forehead against mine. "Too fast?"
"Just slightly," I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes while laughing. Having only started actually seeing him as a boyfriend last week, and his speed of progression was a little too fast for me.
"Rue!" My mother yelled, waking me from my dream in which I didn't want to let go.
"Ten more minutes!" I grumbled, not wanting to get out of bed and face the tragedy of today.
"Rue Oardeene Antonette, get your tiny teenage self out of that bed!"
"Ugh!" I grumbled, grabbing my red reaping dress off of the back of my desk chair. same old outfit; red dress with black tie at waist and black collar, black flats, red bow in the usual natural curly hair.
Walking to the square, shaking with fear, but also with a new sense of excitement as I caught Thresh's arm while he escorted me to my section. And the whole time I'm hoping that it's not me, until our escort, Cecelia, comes out to the stage, her sparkling blues eyes, matching her dress. She didn't look like most capitol people, but she sure was one of them with that thick accent.
"Welcome, welcome, welcome!" She starts, smoothing out the puffy end of her ocean blue dress. "Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favor!" She says, smiling brightly. "Now, before we began, we have a very special film brought all the way from the capitol!" She says, pointing to the screen and squealing.
The film started.
"War. Terrible war. Widows, orphans, a motherless child. This is the uprising that brought our land. 13 districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Brother turned on brother until nothing remained. Then came the peace, heart fought, as only one. People rose up from the ashes, and a new era was born. But freedom has a cost. When the traitors were defeated, we swore as a nation, we would never know this treason again. And so it was decreed, that each year, the various districts of Panem would offer up a tribute, one young man and woman, to fight to the death in a pageant of honor, courage, and sacrifice. The lone victor bathed in riches, which served as a reminder of our generosity, and our forgiveness. This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future."
"I just love that!" Cecelia says before strutting her high heels over to the female's reaping bowl. She fiddles around and finally picks one. She opens the sheet of paper and announces the name.
"Rachel Ruenes!" A slender short and brown haired Hispanic teen slowly walked up to the stage. First, relief hits me, and I'm no longer worried about fighting for my life, but then something else hits me. Rachel is my friend. In school and out school people would call her "Rachel" but her name was pronounced "Ra-shell" Because her Dad was Latino and her Mother was Hispanic. Sometimes, we would joke around when having sleepovers and I would call her Rachel by "accident" and then she would "accidentally" call me Sue.
The thought of missing out on all of those sleepovers is almost unbearable. I want to drop down to my knees and cry, blocking out all of the other citizens in the town square near the Justice Building, until the peacekeepers come and drag me away.
But I don't. I shout two simple words before I realize that they have a escaped my mouth. "I volunteer!" At those words, Rachel does exactly what I thought about doing. Except she doesn't cry. She sobs. Her face is flushed with blood and her skin is splotchy. She tries to stop me from walking up to the stage but get dragged back by peacekeepers. I almost break down crying just seeing her like this. She's thrashing around in the Peacekeeper's arms as a wild animal would do if trapped in some sort of net.
"What is your name dear?" Cecelia asks, before I notice I'm on stage. "Rue Antonette." I respond, tears stinging in my eyes. I think I spot Thresh in the crowd, but my vision is blurring and it's hard to tell. But by the looks of it, his eyes are filled with fear. I blink a couple of times, to keep the tears from falling out, but that just makes it worse. I want to stop crying, but it's not the thought of going into the arena, but the fear of not getting out. 24 go in. 1 comes out.
"And now for the boys," Cecelia says, ignoring the scene before her, Rachel still kicking and shouting. She's tiring but won't give in. That's another thing I will miss. Rachel's confidence, her bravery, and her competitive attitude. She would nearly drown just to win a swimming contest.
"Thresh Plawith!" She announces, showing off her pearly white teeth. At his name, the world stops. The wind stops blowing and everything is still. Until he walks up. Chest out, chin up. I see his mother almost crying, her eyes glistening.
"Shake hands you two!" Shouts Cecelia, the only one in a cheery mood. So we do. As if we don't know each other and are meeting for the first time. "Happy Hunger Games!" She shouts, to us, to the District 11 citizens, to the Peace keepers.
"And, may the odds be ever in your favor!"