Amber sunlight glowing through my window curtains is the first thing I see when my eyes slowly struggle to open and focus. My entire body feels sore, but I bear with it while I rub my eyes and sit up in my bed. I spent the first half of yesterday fishing by the shore, and the second half in a meeting with the head trainers at the academy. I, Marlin Noble, have been selected to volunteer as the male tribute to represent District 4 this year for the 90th annual Hunger Games. I wasn't surprised or caught off guard by it; if I didn't think I would make it this far then I wouldn't have bothered with training in the first place. I lay back down on my pillow deciding that I owe it to myself to relax a little after all the hard work that got me to this point. Today is the day.
I've always envied the kids who could afford to train in the academy because their parents own the big shops in town. They're so stuck up that they hardly associate with the kids who live in nearby fishing villages. I, like a little over half of the others there, have to spend hours and hours on boats near the beach casting nets or fishing rods out into the water to afford it. Even with my parents' help. I've always hated it. Not only does the smell of fish never really seem to leave my hands, but District 4's relentless sunny weather nearly always burns my pale skin. My 15 year old sister, Madeline, teases me to no end after especially long days in the heat. "Crab" is her most often used nickname for me She says I'm just as red and grumpy as one after work. She fishes as well, but she was blessed with our mothers genes when she got her almost golden skin that simply darkens in the summer. However, the job itself is no easier for her in any other way. I'm both annoyed and amazed at her ability to stay positive during long days on the water. If I hadn't dropped out of school to train for the games I would be spending every minute of my life with her. I cringe at the thought and silently thank her for not wanting to join the academy. She's always excelled in school so she never really had a reason to. She's on the right track to become a marine biologist like she wants. I, on the other hand, did average in school, which only meant one thing. I'd be stuck on the massive ships they send miles and miles away for who knows how long in search of fish we don't have nearby. That's what my father does and sometimes it'll be months before he gets back. He doesn't talk much about it, but whenever he does he has nothing good to say. At least he makes it back every time, which is more than I can say for a lot of others that sail away. The academy was my only way to get out of the industry. I had to take it.
With my room already heating up and getting claustrophobic, I sense it's time to get up. Why couldn't they start the games in winter? I'm going to be a sweaty mess by the time I'm up on the stage! I don't hear any water running in the next room over, so I seize the opportunity and take the outfit I picked out to the bathroom before anyone else claims the shower. My dark brown hair is sticking up in all different directions so I lazily attempt to smooth it down while I turn the knob that starts a stream of cold water. I take off my pajamas and step into the spray. Relief from the muggy warm air doesn't last long before it turns into hand numbing torture. This is why I tend to spend a brief amount of time in here. Within 5 minutes I'm drying off and putting on the only clothes I've ever owned that could be considered "nice". It takes two attempts to button up the solid maroon dress shirt. What could an extra button at the bottom possibly be needed for? The smell of bacon coming from the kitchen is something I hadn't noticed earlier, but it's practically calling to me now. We never have delicacies like what my mom planned for breakfast this morning. She usually doesn't cook entire meals for the family most of the time but she insisted that we have breakfast as a family since this would be our last one for a while. After one last glance in the mirror, I push my still wet hair slightly to the side so it sits at about an inch over my eyebrows and then make my way down the hall.
My heart nearly skips a beat when I see the table. There's 4 plates, one on each side of it, all loaded up with eggs, pancakes, bacon, and completed with a glass of orange juice on the side. This definitely tops the hard lumpy rolls and seaweed we usually eat in the morning. "Good morning. How's our volunteer doing today?" My mother smiles as she says the word "volunteer". It seems that she has been more excited about this than I am since I told my parents about my volunteering a week ago.
"Hungry." I laugh as I pick up my fork and tear off part of the fried egg on my plate.
"Perfect, because there's extra bacon on the counter if you want more." Her voice is so cheery that it feels almost unnatural. My mother is usually not someone I would describe as happy or lively even, but she's doing a good job with acting today. Most of the time she only shows real emotion when she's angry with someone.
Madeline takes a bite of her pancakes and with her mouth still full says, "I helped with the eggs. Your welcome." My sister doesn't sound as enthusiastic about all of this. She's never really supported me training to begin with. She said it was foolish and dangerous. I don't think she expected me to excel at it.
"Thank you." I manage to say with my mouth still full of the rich breakfast food.
My father finally walks into the kitchen and sits down at the table. I can't remember the last time we all sat down at the table like this for breakfast. It almost feels like I'm part of a picture perfect family rather than one filled with my mother's fake smiles and my father's naturally stoic demeanor. No wonder they don't really get along. "So is there anything you can tell us about your strategy?" he mutters. The lack of lift in his voice makes it barely sound like a question. I can tell he's only asking because he's worried about me. Him and Madeline both are, and they show it in very similar ways.
"Sorry there's a lot I'm not supposed to tell you guys." I apologize looking around the table. "Plus, I want it to be a surprise. I can promise that I will be coming back in one piece though." I try to drop the topic on a high note.
The real reason I don't want to tell them my entire strategy is because the volunteering system is taken incredibly seriously. The whole thing is very secretive, and even though I'm with my family in my own home, I'm still afraid that somehow the academy will hear that I've been blabbing about what we do. I could lose my sponsorship from the academy at the least, and there could be a little "accident" with my parents or Madeline at the most. There was a girl a few years ago who hadn't been selected to volunteer but did anyway. Her sister coincidentally went missing while the games were airing. Not that the idiot even came back from the Capitol to miss her anyway. Technically training is illegal, but there's no way the Capitol isn't involved in our training academy somehow.
Being lost in my head, I barely noticed the awkward silence that followed my statement. I know I can make it back home, but no one else at the table has the same unshakeable faith in me. Even my over-enthusiastic mother. "I'm gonna finish getting ready." Madeline says flatly.
She looks like there's nothing left for her to "get ready" since she's already wearing the pastel pink sundress she's had for nearly every reaping. And there's still so much food on her plate, so I know she's only leaving it to make a point. That point being that she still doesn't approve of my choice to compete in the games. She could be so annoying like that sometimes. I wolf down my food, uncomfortable sitting with both of my parents by myself for too long. "Thanks for cooking, mom." I've always been pretty good at making the things I say sound authentic, but my thank you sounds hollow.
Since we have to walk nearly a half hour to get to the square, it's time to leave. The Capitol tries to have all the reapings within a certain timeframe, and District 4 has one of the earliest ones. Small talk is rough the whole way there. How could it not be? All I can think about is how I'm going to present myself today. These are the very last moments that the entire country of Panem will go without knowing my name. Everything from here on out will be publicized, criticized, and used to pull in sponsors. I have to calculate everything carefuly. The mentors at the academy and I worked up an angle to play, most of which we studied and went over multiple times last night. I have to be outgoing with high energy. Luckily humor comes naturally to me most of the time. They said I'm attractive enough to try flirting with the audience, and as much as I don't really want to, I know it's probably a smart move. I've never been quite the romantic type. I didn't have time to form a real relationship with a girl. The few times I tried didn't last long. I hope this angle still works for me when I look down and see small wet patches on my shirt under my arms. It's always way too hot on reaping days.
I can see the massive industrial looking canopy that hangs over the front of the Justice Building. Light filters through the top, but it's only enough to see clearly without baking in the sunlight. I break away from my family all too quickly at the sight of relief from the sky. I check in, have my finger pricked, and make my way to the 17s' section in a flash. The space is nearly full and the amount of people making their way to the square is dwindling. I've gotten here just in time. As usual, I'm surrounded by strangers or people I've seen around but never talked to. The only people I've ever considered to be my friends have usually been a couple years older than me. And in such a big district, it's hard to find friends in the crowd sometimes anyway. I think of what it would be like if we weren't separated by age and gender right now. I'd be able to stand next to Madeline, which is something I unusually wish I could do. Now that I think about it, she's the best friend I have, even if she annoys the hell out of me most of the time. It seems like all my nervousness and apprehension about this day has saved itself until this very moment. What a terrible feeling to have right as I see the mayor walk up to the podium on the stage.
He reads the long and boring history of the country. I don't see why it's necessary here where we all know the story and the games are more of a celebration than a punishment. Before long, the aged mayor is reading down the list of our past victors. Both living and dead. Currently, there are only Two left alive out of the 7 we've ever had. The third quarter quell took out 2, and shortly after, Annie Cresta took her life as well. Ron Stafford, a stern looking middle aged man who won the 68th games, looks bored with the repetitive process. Almost like the whole thing is further graying his dusty dark hair as the mayor speaks. Sitting next to him is Siren Reynolds, attractive girl with mocha colored skin who won the 84th games at 16 years old. She looks almost unchanged from the way she was 6 years ago. The mayor finishes the list, and the crowd responds with roaring applause. The thought of myself being up there next year and hearing the same applause is enough to replace some of my nervousness with anticipation. As the noise dies down, he introduces our escort.
I think Navia Garnish is young, in her early 20s, but it's hard to tell with Capitolites. They appear to be in the same age range for most of their lives. It's only her third year coming to our district, so I have no real way of knowing. Her skin has been consistently dyed blue for her appearances here. She's definitely going for a theme to match our district. To me, the blue just makes it look like she's been holding her breath for too long. Her dress is long and covered in what looks like reflective scales of all different colors. They almost look like precious jewels. In all my years on the beach I've never seen a real live fish with scales that bright. She smiles wide before speaking into the microphone. "Welcome, District 4, to The 90th Annual Hunger Games!"
Her enthusiasm is matched with a roar from the crowd. "I know you're all just as eager as I am to see who our lucky competitors will be this year." She says with a thick Capitol accent. "Time for the boys."
She reaches her hand in the bowl of slips slowly, as if it actually matters who get picked. Everyone knows that whoever goes in won't be the owner of the name she draws. "Reed Coelho!" She shouts triumphantly.
I don't even have time to look around for who reacts before my hand shoots up in the air. "I volunteer!" I practically scream.
Heads are always turned towards the front section of teenagers, where the older ones stand. Where I stand. That's where volunteers typically come from. If anyone in the crowd wasn't looking at me before, they definitely are now. I can feel it. I can feel my heart beating faster than I knew it could go, and as a result I can feel my face heating up and turning red. I see Navia's eyes locked on me and then I feel my legs moving me closer to the stage. At the top, I immediately search the crowd for Madeline's face and quickly give up when I see the sheer size of the crowd from higher ground. It's almost like it's grown since I shouted. "And what is your name?" Navia asks excitedly as she reaches to shake my hand.
"My name is Marlin Noble, and it's going to be an honor to represent District 4 this year." The rehearsed line falls from my mouth and sounds the same as it did when I first perfected it. I peer into the crowd of boys in front of me, finding nearly as many scowls from the other trainees as I see smiles from everyone else.
"And it will be an honor to be your escort." the blue woman in front of me chimes in. The crowd claps again, though less loudly than the times before. The jealousy from all the other academy boys definitely shows. "Now it's time for the girls." Navia moves over to the other bowl full of paper slips. Nearly the exact same way as before, she pulls out a girl's name. "Piper Ringer" I don't recognize the girl's name either, but I don't have long to think about it before a hand shoots up from the group of 16s.
"I volunteer as tribute!" It sounds more shrill than courageous. I see heads turn toward the noise and find her quickly. She's short, probably about 5 foot 4. It's not often we get volunteers younger than 17 either. Why did they choose her? I've never even noticed her at the academy either. She shares strikingly similar features to our most recent victor, Siren, but looks significantly weaker. Their hair is the same color and is styled wavy, pushed to the side. Did this girl dye her hair? When she gets up to the stage, she looks even smaller somehow. Maybe it's the fact that I stand over half a foot taller than her.
"Would you like to introduce yourself to our viewers?" Navia prods.
"Yes I would, thank you. I'm Ciera Black." I'm shocked that she doesn't share Siren's last name. Apparently she's just trying to look like her. Boring. There's no way she can work well with what's already been done when she gets to the Capitol. I discover that her voice isn't shrill because she's nervous, she's perfectly calm. I should be glad that I'm so much stronger than my district partner since I'll have less competition, but in this district it can also be a death sentence. It's kind of an unspoken rule that volunteers from districts 1, 2, and 4 stick together. It's why our districts win so often. Rogue volunteers hardly ever come back. I'm so angry with the academy for picking such a pathetic teammate for me, but I still smile for the cameras. I have to be likeable and I'm lucky that the audience can't see how hard I'm clenching my teeth.
"What a lovely name." our escort compliments her. Is she being serious? I can't tell. "Let's all give a warm welcome to our tributes, Marlin Noble, and Ciera Black!" Navia grabs mine and Ciera's hand and lifts them up in the air. We bow together and the sounds from the audience are deafening. I can still hear them cheering as we all walk into the doors of the Justice Building. The games haven't even begun and all I think about as I'm escorted to my waiting room is how much I'm already set back by district partner. I did everything I was supposed to. Unbelievable. I don't deserve this.
Hi, technically this is my first fic I've uploaded. I kind of attempted the same one almost a year ago but it suuucked so I lost motivation. I have since tweaked a lot of details and I'm feeling a lot more confident about this one. Pls leave reviews. I swear I'm finishing this one to the very end. I might also start an SYOT on the side if I feel I'm able to. Also, I have a loose storyline planned out for this one but it's easy to change things as I go along, so if you wanna submit a tribute or character that you would like to see in this story (or any others that could come up) just pm me c: I hope you enjoy