A/N: Hey guys! I know I have like five stories that I should be working on and before I get yelled at, I'll let you know that I'm working on the next chapter of From The Tower. This is my first story that's not Teen Titans related.
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans, so do you think I own the Hunger Games?
"Damn it, Mason!" My brother Malcolm shouts. "What the hell was that for?!"
Mason - my other brother - laughs. "That was your bath. You do remember what day it is, right?"
I stand in the doorway, a towel wrapped tightly around my body (I had just taken a shower). Mason had filled a bucket to the brim with ice cold water and doused our formerly sleeping brother with it. I'm barely holding back a smile while Mason - on the other hand - looks like he's about to start rolling on the floor from how hard he's laughing.
Malcolm grabs a candle standing on his nightstand and throws it at Mason. The candle hits Mason square in the forehead, then splatters on the floor. Malcolm smirks and says, "Oh, I remember what day it is; that's exactly why I was trying to sleep in."
Mason stares at him with a playful spark in his eyes. I decide to intervene, knowing good and well that this will turn into a full-out wrestling match if I don't. "As much and I'd love to just stand here and watch you guys go at it, I can't. The Reaping starts in twenty minutes and me and you-" I nod towards Malcolm -"aren't even dressed yet."
Using one hand to keep my towel from falling, I punch Mason in the chest with my other hand. "And since you're already dressed, can you run down to the sweets' shop and get a bag of rice krispies, please?"
"You and your sweet tooth." Malcolm shakes his head. "Will you two do me a favor and get the hell out of my room?"
I roll my eyes at him. "You act like it's such a big deal. It's not like we haven't seen each other naked before."
"That was when we were babies, sis," Mason says. He places a hand on the small of my back and guides me out of the room. "C'mon, you need to get dressed, too. I'll meet you and Mal at the sweets' shop, alright?"
"Alright. See ya there." I watch him walk down the hallway, then slip into my bedroom and close the door. The first thing I see is the dress I had laid out on my bed before I took my shower. I groan loudly at the sight of it.
Reaping Day is a celebration… or it's supposed to be anyway. I prefer to think of it as "Stock Picking Day" because that's exactly what it is. Every year on this day, one boy and one girl - tributes - from each district is picked to compete in the Hunger Games - a fight to the death on national television. This year is supposed to be an interesting one, since last year's victor was one of our own tributes. And last year just so happened to be the Quarter Quell. People (in the Capitol) are dying to see if District 12 can win again.
"Happy Hunger Games my ass," I mutter, dropping my towel an grabbing my clothes. "It's never happy."
My dress is white, with red and white roses and black leaves. It's a strapless sundress of sorts and its skirt ends at my ankles. This dress has been in my family for over a hundred years, yet it is still in pristine condition.
I slide the dress on and quickly yank a comb through my hair - it is naturally curly, so I don't really have to do anything with it. I am just slipping on my fancy shoes when there is a knock on my bedroom door. "It's safe, Mal!" I call out.
Malcolm pokes his head in. "It's 11:47. Are you ready to go?"
"Yep." I jump off my bed and join him in the hallway. "Fancy clothes," I comment.
"Thanks." He is wearing black trousers with a navy blue shirt and a black tie. "Shall we go?" He asks, holding his arm out. I hook my arm around his and we - literally - skip out the door.
Mason is waiting outside the sweets' shop with a brown paper bag in his hand when Malcolm and I skip up to him. "Look at my little brother and sister, all dressed up," He teases, ruffling my hair.
I swat his hand away, then snatch the paper bag out of his hand. "We're triplets, Mase," I say, checking the contents of the bag. Stuffed to the brim with rice krispies. I take two out and offer them to my brothers. Malcolm punches Mason and gratefully takes the treat.
Mason simply rolls his eyes and takes the other treat. "Let's just go. We're gonna be late."
The walk up to the Town Square is unusually quiet, most likely due to the fact that we're too busy eating all the rice krispies. When we reach the Town Square, the paper bag is filled with nothing but air, and the registration lines are only two or three people long.
Mason takes the bag and shoves it into his pocket. "We'll see you after the Reaping," He mutters, kissing my forehead.
"Yep." I stand on my tiptoes and give him a peck on the cheek before doing the same to Malcolm, who hugs me and ruffles my hair in return. Malcolm and Mason go to the boys' registration while I go to the girls'. The Peacekeeper takes a sample of my blood to confirm that it's me, then sends me off. I take my place with the other fifteen-year-old girls and wait for the Reaping to begin.
Twelve o'clock on the dot, District 12's Capitol escort, Delicia, walks out onto the stage. Last year she was sporting a neon-green wig and dress so yellow it was hard to look at. This year she is wearing a horrible crimson-colored wig and a dress that looks as if it's entirely made of gemstones.
"Hello, District 12!" Her high-pitched voice makes my ears hurt. "Welcome to the 51st Annual Hunger Games! I fancy everyone is in a better mood than last year, yes?"
The only sound I can hear is that of a baby crying off in the distance.
"I guess not then." The look on her face as Mayor Strawt take the microphone is equivalent to that of a pouting four-year-old. I almost want to laugh at her expression.
Mayor Strawt gives the same boring speech that he does every year. By the time he finishes, I think a few girls around me have actually fallen asleep standing up.
Delicia is back to her perky self by the time she takes the microphone back. "Let's begin the Reaping. Ladies first," She announces, nearly running over to the crystal bowl holding the girls' names.
She drops her hand into the Reaping bowl and draws it back with a slightly creased slip of paper. "Harley Sedric," She reads.
People look at me. I suck in a sharp breath and bite my lip. Harley Sedric. "That's me," A voice in the back of my head squeaks nervously. I stare at my feet as I slowly make my way to the stage and focus on not hyperventilating.
Delicia asks for volunteers, but of course, there are none. What girl would willingly stick their neck out for someone they barely know? Delicia crosses the stage to the boys' Reaping bowl and quickly yanks out a slip. "Elliot Hill."
A boy with a blond crew-cut hairstyle walks up to the stage. I study him as he takes his place besides me. He is a merchant's kid, obviously - the blond hair gives that away - and looks to be seventeen. Again, Delicia asks for volunteers, but receives no answers.
She walks up behind us and forces our hands into the air. "Panem, I give you your District 12 tributes!"
The applause that follows is forced and short-lived. I search the crowd for Mason and Malcolm. They are standing side-by-side, frowning up at Delicia.
"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"
A squad of Peacekeepers surrounds us and marches us into the Justice Building. I have to hold up the skirt of my dress so I can keep up.
A/N: How was that for a Hunger Games fanfic? Delicia and Mayor Strawt are owned by AmethystWren, who's allowing me to borrow a few of her OCs from her story Running, which I highly recommend you read.