Part 1- The Blaze.
I gingerly take a sip of the green tea I know clutch, scared of the day that has come. Why today? Why had they decided to reopen The Hunger Games? I had no idea. Chances are, I am chosen to go into the grody arena and fight in a battle to the death, against other poor innocent twelve-to-eighteen year olds.
I sit the tea cup down on the clear glassy table in front of me, thoughts that contain blood running through my mind. I slowly-and causiously-make my way up to the stairs and in front of my room. I grasp the fragile door knob and open the door to my cold room. It was usually warm and sunny, but today, it seemed only dark and gloomy. It was if the Capitol had especially did this for me.
I know, during the reaping, I will be chosen. They most likely have already rigged the bowl to make sure all the papers say, 'Flourence Mellark', in a beautiful cursive written by the very own Sylvester Snow, grandson of the president my mother once loathed.
I make my way, moving swiftly, across the room to my dresser, full of dresses my mother wore in her Hunger Games interviews, opening ceremonies, and victory tour, and other usual outfits. Though most people from here won't call it usual. I slip on a fitting red shirt that brings out my startling blue eyes with a black Dolman pullover and red fleece scarf over it, faded boot-cut jeans, brown steel-toe lace up boots, and my chocolate-colored hair back in a fish tail braid.
"This will do." I tell myself. Unlike most people in the new rebuilt District Twelve, I have expensive clothes. The poor parents who have to pray their kiids don't get reaped and cry if they do, the only thing they look foward to are my dresses. Only that. Nothing else but seeing me in my dress, hoping I will be the one reaped and not their child.
Yes, it is hard to believe Distrist Twelve people are that shallow. It's same with the kids. All exept me, my little brother, and that poor boy, Damion Talley. I am the wealthiest child in Panem, all of because my mother and father are victors, meaning they have twice as money as the others. Yet I am not shallow. Or rude. Or vain.
I have learned manners. And battle stradegies. I usually use a knife, but I don't throw. I get up close and slash, Knives are for only the most skilled warriors out there, my mother says. I believe her. To get up closed, you have to run to the persoon, duck their shots from far away. Biggest chance, you'll get shot.
I know to sit up straight, cut the food into pieces, my right leg on the other, and how to set a table properly and how to use and handle forks and spoons properly. I don't slurp, I don't sloutch, I don't burp. I don't. I don't. I don't. The three 'don'ts', that's what my father calls them. You are an eighteen year old daughter of the most important victors in Panem, you must use your manners.
Yes sir.
I walk out of my room, and hear soft snoring. My family is still asleep, so I decide to cook breakfast. Bacon, eggs, toast, and muffins that only my family would be able to afford in District Twelve. I open the pantry. No bacon. I sigh and head out to the butcher shop. It just opened and people are filing in. Not much though, for most people cannot afford it unless special occasions such as birthdays or weddings.
I am waiting patiently second in line, meanwhile the lady in front of me is having trouble.
"Sorry, ma'am," the butcher, John, says. "You seem to be missing some money. I'm sorry, but I got a whole line, including the richest child in Panem waitin' behind you." I smile a bit, knowing the man only cared that I am in line.
"Oh, dear," The lady says., searching frantically in her now empty wallet. "I must have dropped it. I'm so-" She was interrupted by me slapping down a stack of coins on the counter. She stares at them intently.
"John," I say. "Do you realize how depressed this lady must be? And seeing by how much money you got in your hand and what she was going to buy, she's only missing a dime. Is it that important to you? This lady, by the way she's dressed up, she seems to be going to a wedding. And we all know it isn't gonna last that long since she has to get ready for the reaping. Like you said, there's so much people in line, and she's only missing a dime, and you have to hold it all up just for one small coin?"
That's mighty dissapointing, for her and all the other fellows. No need to be rude, for any of this though. And lady," I turn to the woman. "You take every bit of that exept the dime and go buy a beautiful dress." She stares at me for a moment, then a slight smile plays on her lips.
"Thankyou." She says as she puts all but one coin in her pocket and takes the food. I walk up to the counter and order the bacon.
"You're very brave there, Flourence." A familiar voice says as I turn around. I look up and froze, staring intently at his sea green pearly eyes. His honey blonde hair glows where the one window seemed to be completely focused on him. I am now staring at Damion Talley, the boy I stood up for five years ago. Memories flooded back.
It was my first day at school. I was late, of course, and I walked into my hall, only to find a tall buff girl with short stringy brown hair and bloody red eyes beating up Damion. I walked up to her, pushed Damion back, and got in her face and said,
"You pick on someone your own size you fat oaf." I only then noticed that she had a knife in her hands. Her eyes seemed to fire with anger as she slashed at me. I ducked just in time, and used a maneuver I learned from my mother and disarmed her. I put the knife to her kneck.
"I am not someone you want to mess with." I said and I put the knife on the ground. I turned and started walking until she tackled me. I should have known the fight wasn't over. She jabbed the knife into my side and I cried out in pain, silent kind of. Not enough for anyone but us to hear.
"You're going to die you little-Umph!" That last part was because Damion pulled her by the jacket collar and threw her at the lockers. He held a hand out to me. I took it, pain still causing me to shake. He put my arm around his shoulders and led me into the classroom, mumbling,
"Sorry." Over and over again. I tried to smile, but it was hard. Once we got in, the class turned to us, and the girls freaked out, the guys just gasped, and the teacher shrieked and ran to us.
"Oh my, what happened?" She gasped. Damion told her the story, and her eyes went wide. She lead me to a chair.
"This isn't really what I thought the first day would be. What's your name?" She asked, bringing out a small first aid kit.
"Flourence." I said. She bit her lip as she tried to figure out how to put the gauz on.
"Let me." I said, straining to reach the medicine.
"No, it's okay. I know more than you, anyway."
"No you don't, ma'am. Let me give you instructions."
"Alright." She sighed, knowing she had been defeated. "Maybe we should call your parents."
"Okay." I said. I didn't really want anyone to know who my parents were, because I wanted people to like me for who I am. Not who my parents are. I told her the instructions, as she seemed surprised I knew so much. Meanwhile, Damion was trying to calm every one down. After she was done, every one seemed to have calmed down.
She handed me the phone, and I dialed the number. It ringed a couple times, then I heard my dad say, "Hello?" I smiled. I love hearing his voice.
"Hey dad, um...there's been this...accident, I guess you could say, at school, and I think you need to pick me up." I heard shuffling, assuming I was now on speaker phone, because I heard mom say,
"An accident that bad to take you home? What happened?"
"It's fine. I'll explain later. But can you please just hurry?"
"Okay!" they hung up, and I noticed everyone was staring at me. I smiled. After a few minutes, the very own Katniss and Peeta Mellark ran into the door. Everyone gasped and the teacher stood up straight.
"Katniss and Peeta Mellark! What a wonderful-" She was cut off by mom mom screaming and running towards me.
"Flourence!" She cried out. Dad jerked his head to me and gasped and ran to me. They took my hands in theirs as everyone stared in shock.
"That's Katniss and Peeta Mellarks-" One kid started.
"Daughter?" One finished.
"No way!" Another said in disbelief. I hated the attention. The day went by, and then the next day, then week, then month, then years, people praise me for who's daughter I am. When I walk by, the girls straighten their posture and fix their hair and wave as if we're best friends. The guys would make their best smile and show the occasional flirt.
Only one person doesn't do that. And that person is Damion. He just smiles and nods, and it makes me so happy to not be praised like that, I have to fight the urge to smile a huge smile all the way home.
So here I am, looking at Damion. We usually never speak unless needed. The line goes on, people whispering and frowning like on every reaping day. But just right here, right where Damion is standning, you can't help but feel happy. How it's so light, how he's always smiling, being his bright self.
"Um...hi." I say, being a bit embarrased by my stuttering. He laughs his good hearty laugh.
"Surprised to be talking to me? I know, I've just been very anxious. You don't mind, do you? Or are you going to call your dad and tell him to beat me up?" He says it so playfully, I can't help but grin from ear-to-ear.
"No, it's okay. I wouldn't want to have to save your butt again, now would I?"
"Good one," he says. "But really, it's usually very rare to see someone just prance around, slapping loads of money on tables. Though I shouldn't be surprised, you being what they call, 'the wealthiest kid in all of Panem'. I just wanted to say it was very nice what you did, and your predictions, wow!"
I can't help but smile at how he complimented me.
"Thankyou." Is all I say.
"You're welcome. Well, gotta go get ready for the reaping! Can't wait to see that pretty dress of yours." He smiles and walks away. I sigh, and I walk home. As I do, I look around at the rebuilt District Twelve. I remember when I was young my face glued to the glass backyard door, watching big machines taking away the rubbage and dirt and replacing it with buildings and such. I would ask my mom what they were doing and she would just smile, pick me up, and take me to my room.
I quietly open the door and begin cooking the food. I am almost done when my six year old brother, Reuban, comes down the stairs, still in his pajamas.
"Goodmorning." I say as he sits down at the kitchen table. He smiles forcely.
"Not likely." He says. Then he sniffs the air and smiles. "Nevermind." I laugh and put a muffin on the table in front of him.
"I'm going to get mom and dad. Don't eat all of the food, okay?" He just waves me away with his hand and takes a huge bite of his muffin. I walk up stairs and knock on my parents' door. I hear shuffling and dad opens the door.
"I made breakfast." I say. His mouth moves to the side of his face.
"Okay. We'll be there in a minute." He yawns and closes the bedroom door. I walk back downstairs and finish setting the table. My parents come down soon, and we try to make idol chit chat, but no one seems to be in the mood. After breakfast, I wait in my room until I have to get ready for the reaping.
I put on a violet asymetrical-hem charmeuse dress that goes down to my knees, violet ballet flats, black solid tights, and I keep my fishtail braid on, but I tie it with a black ribbon. I apply a little make-up-mascara, blush, and a bit lip gloss. Good enough. I hurry back downstairs and wait or my brother, who comes down dressed in a white fitting shirt and one of those rock star type vests, black skinny jeans, converse, and his blonde hair in a fohawk, his freckles and stormy gray eyes popping out from his olive tan.
"Well, don't you look handsome?" I say. His face turns pink and mom and dad come downstairs, dressed in their ornamental no one is smiling.
"Let's go." They say. We head out and get into the car, the only car in District twelve. I think about what lay ahead. The rules have changed for the Hunger Games. Now, both people from from one district can win, assuming they both stay alive. And for this Quarter Quell, the arena will be completely dark. So I know I have to find the glasses my parents told me about, so I can see.
But they said we'll be in an arena that has already been used. I can't help but think, all of the arenas were destroyed! Sure, they reopened the the Hunger Games, but they couldn't have just rebuilt it perfectly, take the ruins and put them back in the correct spot. It's impossible! Well, not for the Capitol, I guess.
I walk out of the car and into the crowd of people, who look longingly at our decorative clothes and shiny car. It makes me feel guilty-having all this money, and not giving a dime to all of these starving people. I lower my head as I give hugs to my parents and brother and walk to my line. I look around, seeing girls smile at me, and so do guys from all ages.
Damion waves at me, and I wave back as other boys glare at him of jealousy. Yes, jealousy. Not only am I the wealthiest child in Panem, but I'm also what the boys call, 'the hottest girl in District Twelve'. It disgusts me. Sure, alot of the boys here are handsome, but like I said before, they only like me because how I'm wealthy and supposedly important.
The mayor comes to the podium on the stage and says the very boring announcements about the Hunger Games, and I see a boy mocking him and I can't help but giggle silently. Mayor tells us about how Panem is what used to be called 'North America' and how it was torn into thirteen districts, and how District Twelve used to be a place called the appalacia. Then the tribut escort walks up to the stage on her high-heels, making the clappity-clap sound.
"Welcome to the very special one hundreth Hunger Games!" Announces Cecelia Garner, Effie Trinket Garner's daughter. She was wearing a pink-red wig, along with a matching dress and everything else. It's so loud it hurts my ears.
"And now let's announce the tributes! Ladies first!" She walks over to the female glass bowl, runs her hand through it just for the tension, then pulls out a name and announces out loud,
"Flourence Mellark!"