Hello, readers. This is not my first story, but it is my first story for The Hunger Games. I read the books, LOVED them, watched the movie, and now feel compelled to write for one of my favorite series. Enjoy!
District 12. Reaping day.
"Hurry up, Peeta!" My mother called crossly from outside the front door. "I've seen bread rise faster than it takes you to get outside!"
"Coming, Mother." I muttered, setting down my comb. I stopped in front of the mirror in the living room one more time and examined my face closely. What did I see?
Fear, apprehension. I could feel my heart thudding in my chest as I straightened my collar, tightned my belt. I closed my eyes and imagined my face, with the same expression, standing next to some girl at the Tribute parade at the Capitol. Me, looking scared, nervous, and hopeless.
I wouldn't stand a chance.
I took a deep breath and walked out the door into the cool, drizzly day. My parents and two older brothers had already gone, leaving me to walk to the Reaping stage myself.
To walk to my potential death myself, I thought. Really, I knew, I shouldn't be so worried. My family's bakery provided my family with enough money, and I had never had to enter my name in for the reapings again for extra food. There were people at school, I knew, that lived in the Hob, that had their names in twenty-five times. Sometimes more. Rumor had it that Gale Hawthorne, a boy two years above me, had his name in forty-two times.
Mine was entered five times.
By this time, I had entered a throng of other District 12 residents who were also making their way to the reaping stage. Girls in shabby, faded, yet clean dresses, their hair braided or pulled back into buns; boys in freshly pressed collared shirts and trousers, their hair neatly combed or oiled back. I knew many of the other teenagers, especially the other merchant's children, but nobody acknowledged anybody else. There was a general air of dispair and gloom, which seemed to turn the sky dreary and gray.
The crowd, which seemed to be sleepwalking, pushed into the Reaping square, the sound of crunching gravel mixing with the wails of terrified children and the consoling of older siblings and parents. I seemed almost numb, my ears turning all the noise into a muffled murmur.
This is just so sick. I saw up ahead, at the stage, Capitol employees were fixing television screens to scaffolding. They're sending twenty-four innocent teenagers to their deaths, and treating it like a festival game.
My heartbeat picking up, I stepped up to the booth where a group of Peacekeepers were registering potential tributes. My eyes were immidiately drawn to girl with a brown braid down her back and a gray dress, standing a few yards ahead of me in line.
Katniss Everdeen.
The sight of her, standing there, with her hair in her trademark braid and wearing her best dress made me temporarily forget about the horrors I was experiencing. I know this sounds really corny, but it seems like the clouds had split apart, just a tiny bit, to let a ray of sunshine fall around her, literally making her glow.
I must have been really focused on her, because I felt a sharp nudge on the back of my ribs a few seconds later.
"Move it, Mellark!" Someone behind me growled. It was Taylen Overden, an eighteen-year old from my neighborhood. I hurried forward to the booth, my eyes never leaving Katniss. I could see her cranning her neck, a look of concern on her face as she focused on somebody else in the croud. My gut clenched when I thought about who she could be looking at like that.
Probably Gale, I thought ruefully. I had been watching, no, admiring, Katniss for over ten years now, but the only boy she ever seemed to notice was Gale Hawethorn. The thought of seeing Gale being reaped fleeted through my mind, but then I quickly admonish the thought, knowing that seeing Katniss unhappy would be even worse that seeing her out of reach. Katniss and Gale were best friends, and if they wanted to be more, then I just wanted to be happy for her.
I stepped up to the booth, the eyes of the female Peacekeeper behind the plastic window gazing down at her records in utter boredom.
"Give me your hand, please." she intoned. I held my hound out absentmindedly, my eyes still focused on Katniss as she moved over toward the other sixteen year old girls, and occasionally glancing over at somebody. I felt the prick on my fingertip and pulled my hand away, and then hurried over to the roped off area with other boys in my age group. Katniss was on the other side of the area, still looking at an unknown person. This time, I followed her gaze and was relieved to see the object of her focus: A small, blonde girl in the group of first-year reapees. I'd seen Katniss holding her hand many times as they left school. It was her sister, but I didn't know her name. My own brothers were in the seventeen- and eighteen-year olds' groups, but I didn't look for them. And I doubt that either of them were looking for me either.
I stood there, surrounded by other sixteen-year old boys, and closed my eyes. I hoped and hoped that neither Katniss nor her sister nor Gale, nor anybody got reaped this year; maybe Effie Trinket, the absurdly animated Capitol representitive who appeared every year to choose those who would have 'the honor to represent the twelfth district in the annual Hunger Games' would loose her puffy pink wig and have to stay in the Capitol while another was made; maybe President Snow had just died, and the 74th Hunger Games would be suspended to give the citizens of Panem a chance to mourn their great leader. Maybe...
At that moment, all my hopes were dashed as an explosion rang out over the square. Okay, it wasn't an explosion, but that's what it sounded like. It was really Effie Trinket, in the pink flesh, standing in front of the microphone set up on the stage. Everyone in the square was utterly silent, which made the simple tap sound like a bomb going off.
"Welcome, welcome!" Effie exclaimed, her (literally) painted-on smile never leaving her lips. I found myself at that moment wondering if Effie even smiled in her sleep.
I blocked out the rest of the speech and the film about the history of the Hunger Games. When it was finished, Effie smiled and spoke again.
"As usual: Ladies first!" She chirped brightly, walking over to the big bowl of evil-looking slips of paper. At this time, I think nobody in the square (aside from Effie) was breathing. She reached her feline-like claws into the bowl and fished around. I imagined twenty of those slips saying 'Katniss Everdeen'. I imagined her fingers on one of them, moving to another that didn't have Katniss' name on it, then picking up her name again. I started hyperventilating, just as I always do during the reaping moment. Then, my breath stopped completely as Effie held up her hand, the name of one poor soul on the slip of paper.
Time itself seemed to stop as she unfolded it. Then, she held it up and leaned into the microphone and spoke the two words that would change the world.
"Primrose Everdeen!"
At first, the name didn't register. Then I realized she had said 'Everdeen', which was Katniss' last name. And Katniss had a sister...
"I VOLUNTEER!"
Everyone in the square spun around to see Katniss, standing in the grip of two white-clad Peacekeepers. She was panting, her hair coming out of it's braid.
"I volunteer as tribute." she clarified. Her voice rang out loud and clear accross the gathering.
My whole body wen't numb; everything went blurry. How could Katniss volunteer? How could she offer herself to die?
My heart started racing. District Twelve never did very well in the Games. If Katniss were to compete, she almost certainly would-
I stopped I couldn't think like that. Suddenly, I became aware of everyone around me staring at me. I looked at the stage, and saw Effie and Katniss looking at me. Effie was standing in front of the bowl of boys' names. And she had an open slip in her hand.
I had been reaped.
There is no way to describe how I felt when I walked up to the stage, because it was as if I had been drugged: I remember standing in the crowd, then I remember being up on stage, next to Katniss. She eyed me coldly, as if she was unwilling to show emotion to me. Why did she always look at me like that?
"Go on, shake hands!" Effie urged us. Katniss reached out, and I grasped her outstretched hand. The sensation me me feel warm and safe inside.
"Well, good luck to our District Twelve tributes!" Effie announced brightly to the crowd, bringing the reapings to a close. "Happy Hunger Games everyone, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
As Katniss and I were led off, I had only one thought:
My odds had run out.
...
Well? Good or bad? Should I continue, or is it not even worth it. I know I'll have fun creating reapings for the other characters. A quick question: Should I put two tributs from the same district in one chapter, or give each tribute their own chapter? Review so I know to continue!