Chapter one
Rodly had been here before. Almost every day. He was sitting on sleek metal, chrome colored and diseased with ash. His boots hung just over the edge of one of the large wings of the drone - a wide gash like an open wound running along the wing's length was the main hint as to why it had crashed in the lumber forests of District 7. Rodly would sit here almost every weekend and remember the moment when he had seen it come crashing down from the sky from one of the capital air raids. It signified the final events of the rebellion of the Thirteen Districts against Panem.
It was only a few days after that when Rodly heard that it had also signified the end of District 13 forever. He hadn't heard much that happened since the Thirteen Districts were not allowed to cross borders into each other's lands. Doing so would mean death by Peacekeepers. But this time, Rodly wasn't imagining that moment in his life anymore. He was imagining something much worse.
"Stop thinking about it." Rodly broke out of his stupor immediately when he felt a familiar hand run through his copper colored hair. He tried to muster a smile and stopped drumming his leather booted feet against the metal of the fallen drone, half buried in green flora.
He shrugged his shoulders, "I'm not thinking about it." He lied to Whitel. She had been his friend ever since his parents had both been killed in an air raid and had been sent to live with her family. Whitel had a doll like face, freckles sprinkled across her nose and long brown hair that she usually did up behind her to keep out of the wood chips during work. Her eyes were a green that shamed the leaves of the tree's around them. She sat down next to him with a thump of metal and gave him a sideways smile, but Rodly knew she was just as nervous as he was.
Today was the day of The Reaping.
Rodly remembered three years ago when President Treven had announced that they were to be hosting something new - "The Hunger Games" he had called them. They sounded exciting! Two tributes, a male and female between the ages of twelve and eighteen, would be chosen to enter the Hunger Games. They would be shipped to the Capitol and there would be trained. The whole event would be televised.
It was a simple game. Be a part of a team of districts with the goal of getting a large metal orb. The winning team would become Capitol darlings - victors. The losers disappeared. There had been rumors that they had been experimented on or killed. A fun game with high stakes it would seem.
But that wasn't what it was at all.
There were no real rules.
Rodly could still remember as a thirteen year old watching as a girl from District 2 bore down on a younger boy from District 11. Whitel's mother had taken them both out of the room just as the District 2 girl had raised a large glimmering blade above her with something in her eyes that Rodly had only seen in animals before.
He hadn't seen her kill the boy.
But not seeing almost made it worse.
"You're still thinking about it." Whitel said nudging his shoulder with her own.
He chuckled and pushed back at her. "So are you." he said. The Reaping was only a few minutes away and Rodley found himself sweating regardless of the cooler weather of late October.
Whitel reached out and touched his hand with her own. "Don't worry. Two more years and we are totally immune. There's lots of kids that will be at the reaping. The chances of either of us are low."
"But there are chances either way." Rodly retorted.
"Don't be so depressing."
Even as she said it, Rodly could hear the tremor in her voice. He felt sweat slide down the side of his face and his hand shook slightly as he reached out and touched the edges of her fingers. Not wanting to think about it anymore, Rodly jumped off the wing of the drone and landed solidly on his feet with a grunt. He smiled up at Whitel and pushed the hair out of his blue eyes so he could see her, silhouetted by the sun's light. "Should we head into the square? The train will be arriving soon!"
Whitel jumped down next to him. "Yeah." she said. "That sounds like a good idea." The two walked together down the large grassy hill, weaving through large trees that towered over them, shading them from the sun. They were close enough that their arms brushed against each other.
As soon as they reached the outskirts of their lumber village the familiar sounds of the saw buzzing, cutting logs to be delivered to the Capitol were missing. Crowds of people - frightened kids with tense shoulders and their parents who almost looked worse - made their way to the center where a large platform built from cedar was. Like most things in District 7, the main building, the train station, and the surrounding houses at the square were made entirely of wood. Rodly had learned already how to work the saws, the hatchets, and the axe to help get the work done to appease the Capitol.
The sound of the train could be heard in the distance. Summers, the announcer for District seven would be here soon. As they reached the edge of the square, the sun bearing down on them and making the grass around them almost look yellow in the light, a woman wearing a plaid skirt and a sweat stained blouse turned to see them, her fair blonde hair glowing in the light. "Where have you two been?" she hissed, running to them and putting her arms around their necks.
"We were just walking in the woods, Mom." Whitel said.
She looked at Rodly with concerned eyes, but she didn't reprimand either of them. "I'm glad you stayed close." Was all that she managed to say. The sound of the train whistle could be heard and they joined the rest of the crowd as soldiers, dressed all in white, their faces covered by black visors appeared, equally white guns sturdily held in their hands for if anyone tried to run.
Rodly looked around at the other kids. He knew many of them from his work in the saw mills. Rebecca, Colt, Derian, Felecia, Lara, Neddie. All of them had the same expression on their face. Their eyes watered and not from the sun. Their fists were clenched to their sides. Others looked at the ground, her hands shaking.
A table was being set up where women sat, folders open in front of them, ready to take everyone's name and a quick sample of their blood for fingerprinting. Rodly could feel his chest tightening as Mrs. Rell, Whitel's mother motioned them to the table. The woman at the table was already beginning to accept individuals. She wrote down names rapidly and then with a quick punch of a long white stick with a space in the middle for the finger, she would put their finger on the page, leaving a bloody fingerprint behind.
"It's gonna be okay." Whitel whispered next to him, although Rodly wasn't sure if she was talking to him or to herself.
As soon as they reached the table the woman, without looking up said, "Name?" Her pen was poised to write.
The sound of creaking was heard and Rodly looked over to see the large doors at the stage had opened and more Peacekeepers were making their way out to the stage. Summers, the man who acted as their spokesperson followed, his hair dyed a fire engine red with orange tips and slicked back to reveal his black roots. He wore a suit colored the same colors like made him look like he was engulfed in flame, fabric embers attached via long wires that trailed from the shoulders of his his tight suit.
"Name."
Rodly turned back to the woman as he felt Whitel prod him from behind.
"Um, Rodly Pempertin." He said quickly.
The woman nodded and then reached out, snatching at his hand with her long, clean fingers and slid his finger into the white contraption. He hardly had time to prepare himself as he felt the needle force its way into his skin and then she placed his finger on the page, not holding back any pressure. She then motioned for him to continue to move.
Rodly waited at the edge of the table as Whitel went next.
"Whitel Rell." She said quietly.
A few minutes later his friend had joined him with a bleeding index finger and the two made their way into the crowd who were being squared off by the Peacekeepers. Mrs. Rell joined next to them but her eyes were on the stage where the podium had just finished being set up and the wiring of the microphone blared in the quiet air, piercing it like a knife.
Rodly remembered standing here the last three years. The first in excitement. The second in horror. And now, something sharper that stung his cheeks and hurt his eyes and made his tongue swell. He watched as more kids made their way through the line. It felt like ages before they were all roped together.
"Welcome." Summers said in a clear voice as smooth as silk. His eyes were almost white in the sun as he looked around at the crowd like a ridiculous burning coal. He felt Whitel's fingers intertwine with his own. "Happy Hunger Games District 7!" Rodly had heard this three times now. He knew the next lines and mouthed them with Whitel and Summers and they smiled at each other's memory.
"May the odds be ever in your favor."
Two Peacekeepers on either side of him placed steel tables next to the podium and then two glass jars on either side. They then gave an affirmative nod to him and stepped back off the stage. Summers smiled at the crowd, television screens showing him better. "It has been such a great year at the Capitol and I hope for all of you as well. It is your hard work that has allowed us to rebuild so much of what was destroyed in the Dark Days." He spoke of it like it had happened ages ago, and yet it was only five years ago that air raids were flying over their heads.
It was only five years since Rodly's parents and gone to the woods and had not come back.
"Let us begin the Reaping for the Third Annual Hunger Games!" he grinned showing teeth too white to be real and then stepped over to the edge of the bowl. "As always, ladies first!" Rodly's hand tightened around Whitel's own and she looked at him with her green eyes. Her mother wrapped an arm around her waist, but did not break the link between the two.
Summer's hand dipped into the bowl and snatched up a white paper. He slowly pulled it out and unfolded it, making his way back to the podium. With another grin he shouted over the speaker: "Marisha Tenrows." Rodly let out a breath of relief. The crowd barely murmured as a young girl appeared. Rodly had seen her before. She was two years younger than himself - fourteen years old. She was bouncy normally, but she had gone deathly pale and quiet. She slowly made her way up to the stage and Summers grabbed her by the neck and pulled her to the podium with a smile. "Thank you for your efforts Marisha!" he said. "Now, for the boys." Once more he turned to the bowl.
Rodly could feel Whitel's eyes on him.
Summers snatched up a name from the glass jar.
The sun glared across the glass and hit Rodly in the eyes and he winced.
His finger hurt.
Summers returned to the podium and opened his mouth.
Marisha shook next to flame of a man next to her.
Rodly knew before the words came out of his mouth what was about to happen. Somehow he knew.
"Rodly Pempertin." He said clearly through the microphone.
Whitel's hand tightened and he heard an audible gasp from Mrs. Rell.
He closed his eyes, the tension not leaving his body and suddenly he was shifted out from the crowd, his hand breaking from Whitel's grip as the Peacekeepers pushed him towards the stage. "Come on up!" Summers said cheerily.
Rodly felt his legs wobble like they would soon give out. Just as he stumbled up the first step to the stage he heard a voice scream from behind him. "I volunteer as tribute!" Rodly nearly fell and the crowd muttered and shifted as they turned to look at who had forced their way to the path towards the stage. Summers stared from the podium.
Whitel was standing there.
"I volunteer for Marisha." She stated, her eyes on the girl with black curls.
"No!" Whitel's mother screamed from the crowd but could not push past the Peacekeepers that kept her in the flock of people who squirmed nervously around her.
Summers turned to look at the Peacekeepers, his mouth open and closing but with no words coming out. He gripped the microphone and turned to the crowd.
Rodly could see on the huge screens an image of Whitel. Her eyes were on his.
Whitel, what are you doing?
"V-very well." Summers said and he motioned to the Peacekeepers. Marisha was ushered off the stage. The girl was in tears and before returning to her parents she hugged Whitel who had been motioned to the stage.
No, Whitel. No, no, no.
Rodly was forced up the stairs next to Summers as Whitel joined on the other side. He slowly turned his head to look at his friend with wide eyes. "Why?" he whispered so only Summers and Whitel could hear.
"I'm not letting you do this alone." She said back quietly.
Summers cleared his throat, telling the two to be quiet and to get his composure back. He grinned again and licked his lips. "District 7, I give you your tributes!"
Rodly and Whitel were then ushered off in silence, not a single individual clapping on their behalf.