Author's Note: Just an idea I came up with as to how Clove was reaped. Give me your thoughts!
It's Reaping Day.
In lower districts, this is the worst day of the year. But in District 2, it's an event. It is nothing but a bet. No one is scared shitless because everyone knows that someone will volunteer in their place, even if they are chosen. I attend a Career Academy on the outskirts of District Two. It is technically illegal to train ahead of time for the Games, but it's an overlooked rule for the point of entertainment. As a loophole, the Academy decides on which boy and girl will be accepted into what year secretly. No one in the district knows who goes to this Academy or who will volunteer for what year. These Games are thought up very much in advance. We already have two tributes for the 85th Hunger Games.
The way our Academy works, one girl and boy every year are recruited and trained separately until they are eighteen. They're whole lives are planned for them up until their last Reaping Day. I already know who will volunteer this year: Cato Clemsor and Lavender Chupler. I will be a participant in the 77th Annual Hunger Games. And I will be the victor.
Right now, my money is on Cato. Lavender is weak. She's a frail blonde with the wits of a bowling ball. The only reason why she attended the Academy was because her father made her. In her family, it's a tradition for the children to be victors, her brothers being victors for the 70th and 68th Annual Hunger Games. But she is scared to death and kill probably not make it past the final eight.
Even though I know I won't be chosen, I dress nice. I'm wearing a tight black skirt with a light purple blouse. I'm not wearing heels because you don't wear heels to the Reaping. It's kind of an unspoken rule that every girl follows. My hair is curled slightly in and half up kind of way.
We check in and I stand in line with the rest of the fifteen year olds. In District 2, we are divided amongst age groups, the oldest standing in the front. The Academy arranges it to where the volunteers are in the first row.
The District 2 escort, Hulvia Bulseen, comes to the stage, wearing such bright colors that it makes my eyes water. All of the tribute escorts are from the Capitol. The Capitol citizens tend to wear the flashiest colors in the rainbow. The more ridiculous you look, the better.
She's also very emotional. She cries during the Hunger Games anthem every year, citing how great and forgiving the Capitol is for allowing such young people to compete for this honor.
In honest opinion, the Hunger Games is a sick sport. But, it is one that I have lived with my entire life. Ever since I can remember, my dad has been telling me how I will be the Victor and that I will bring great honor to my family. My father has taught me how to hunt, survive, kill, and be a lethal weapon. Giving me another three years in the Academy, I would have many sponsors and I would have the ability to kill all 23 tributes in less than five minutes. To say the least, my family was anxious for me to get in the arena, to prove how great I am. Death was never even an option, never thought of. The consequences were never considered, winning the fame and glory was the only thing father was concerned with. Mother, on the other hand, worried desperately, but kept her mouth shut around my father because she knows how strongly he feels about this. The reason for this being? My father was the Victor of the 53rd Annual Hunger Game.
Hulvia makes her way to the stage after wiping her tears. "Let's begin with the young women," she winks.
The bowl on the right side of the stage is for the girls, more than 10,000 names were in that bowl. Since I am fifteen, my name is in there four times. We have the option to put our name in the bowl more times for extra tesserae, but most of District two is pretty wealthy, so finding someone doing that is kind of a rarity.
Hulvia clears her throat.
"Clove Brosserm!"
I humorously smiled as I walked up the stage, because I will be making my way to this stage in exactly three years from now. This has never happened before. No one from the Academy has ever been drawn.
I stood in the middle of the stage. I'm glad I dressed nicely since the cameras were all on me. The only thing that really bothered me was the fact that in Hulvia's stupid Capitol accent, she said my name like 'Brossum', instead of 'Brosserm'.
"Now for the gentlemen," she smiled. Her hand dug in the bowl and she pulled a name.
"Parslen Little!"
I know him. He's a seventeen year old boy who would never last a day in the arena. He is as fragile as the glasses he wears on his face. He is wearing a button down shirt and looks bored, because he knows that he won't be participating. Hulvia will always ask for volunteers after the names were picked, but there are always volunteers.
She picks up the microphone. "Now, are there are any volunteers?"
Cato speaks first, "I volunteer as tribute!" He is sturdy and built and I know he will win. He is actually quite handsome with green eyes, but his eyes are hard as he knows what he was to do in order to win these games. He knows he has to kill.
"Oh, wonderful!" Hulvia gushes. Parslen is dismissed back to his family and Cato takes the stage.
"Are there any more volunteers?"
Dead silence.
My confusion sets in and I lock eyes with Lavender. She looks away quickly and shuffles around uncomfortably. She looks like she is trying to speak but can't get the words out. She shakes her head slightly and bites her lip. No one else in the district know who the volunteers will be except for the people at the Academy. I can already tell our trainer is having fits.
My brain can't process what's going on right now. I know Lavender is weak and doesn't want to go in, but would she really turn her back on this district? On her family? On our Academy? Everything is messed up now! Someone will have to go in my place as tribute, because I can't volunteer again after I win. This ruins our reputation as a Career District because I was picked and I am viewed as a weakling with bad luck. No one knows that I have been training my whole life too, just my training was cut short. I have to prove them wrong. I have to prove this country wrong and bring honor to our family. If I win, it will look even better because obviously I was not supposed to go in, someone else was. A volunteer was. And when I do win, I will call her out in front of this entire country during Victor interviews. I will say her name loud and clear, Lavender Chupler, so everyone will treat her like the weak coward she is.
"No?" I heard Hulvia coo. "I guess not."
Whispers entitle throughout the audience because every year, we have a volunteer. Not this year. The district knows something is wrong.
"I introduce District two's tribute for the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Clove Brosserm and Cato Clemsor!"
She makes Cato and I shake hands. When we turn to face each other, I know that he is just as pissed as I am. I realize that I will have to kill this boy eventually. In the beginning, we will form an alliance, but I know that it will come down to the point of having to kill him. He knows my hands are a deadly weapon too. He's made countless comments about poor Chaff Poolion, who was supposed to be my district partner in the 77th Hunger Games. Cato knows my strengths and weaknesses, and I know his. He knows that I am amazing with knives and spears, but not too much with a bow and arrow. I know he can snap someone's neck in under four seconds, but he knows I'm very fast. We look each other square in the eye and we both know that the score is even. It's anyone's game now.
In the few seconds in which I was taken under the custody of the Capitol, I mentally prepared myself for the next few weeks of my life in which I will be in the Games that I do not belong in and for the moment in which I may have to kill Cato Clemsor or anyone else that gets in my way of being crowned Victor.