AN: I've always wanted to know what happened to District 12's other victor, and since no one else (that I'm aware of) has written about him/her, I decided to do it myself. I've wanted to write this story for a while, but I finally got my muse from listening to a song called "Anatole", which is by one of my favorite bands, Hotel Lights. All credit for "Anatole" goes to Darren Jessee, songwriter and creator of Hotel Lights. If anyone can find another story about District 12's mysterious victor, please suggest it to me, I'd love to read it.
The mines of District 12 are a hard place to work. Ask my father, my uncle, or any member of my family for that matter. There's always a chance of getting killed, whether by an explosion, falling rocks, or choking on coal dust. That's how my grandfather died.
The tools we use are dangerous too. Some can even crush bone. That's how my brother lost the ring finger on his right hand, and how my cousin got her crippled foot. Yeah, even some girls have to work in the coal mines.
But the mines are no where near as dangerous as the Hunger Games, as all of District 12's past tributes had discovered.
The morning of the reaping for the 28th Hunger Games, I woke up to a cold breeze rushing into my window and through my black hair. The door to my room opened, and my father's sad, tired eyes glanced in.
"Get ready," he said, his voice, as always, whisper soft. I nodded, and he walked away as quietly as he had come to the door.
My reaping clothes were nothing special, not even worth description. I walked out of my room and into the kitchen of our small, one-floor house. My father sat at the table, staring into space, while my brother, Orien, kept his gray eyes cast down at the table. We ate breakfast in silence, and we walked to the reaping in silence. Orien waved forlornly at me before heading to the fifteen-year-old section. I went to the eighteen-year-old section.
Mayor Frederick Colton gave his speech, and my mind was numb until it was over.
The new escort, Frally Frills (good grief), stood on the stage at waved excitedly to the crowd.
"Welcome all! I'm sure you're excited about the reaping this year!"
I smirked. Frally had just been demoted from covering reapings at the Capitol, where they thoroughly enjoyed it, to District 12, where the Games were a death wish. She looked uncomfortable as no one made a sound.
"Okay… Ladies first!" she shouted giddily, and brought her hand into the bowl. "Our girl this year is… Larissa Gerard!"
A girl from the merchant class walked up the steps, her blond hair waving back and forth in a long braid down her back. She was small; she couldn't be any older than fourteen.
"Oooh, aren't you adorable! Those blue eyes of yours are gorgeous! Welcome to the Games!"
Larissa looked at her, terrified and puzzled.
"And our boy tribute will be… Anatole Parsons!"
It took a moment for my mind to register that Anatole Parsons was me. When I finally did, I tried to put on an indifferent face as I walked up the steps, but I knew that if anyone looked at my eyes, the fear was clear for everybody to see.
I stood next to Larissa, and she looked even tinier up close. I made a mental note to ask her how old she was later.
Frally's artificially golden eyes were trained on me, going over every inch of by body with keen interest. I tried not to flinch.
"We've got ourselves a handsome fellow! This ends the reaping! Please, let's hear a round of applause for the tributes of District 12, Larissa Gerard and Anatole Parsons, and let's hear it for the 28th Hunger Games!"
Only a few people clapped, slowly and hesitantly. I was frozen to the stage, and a Peacekeeper had to drag me by the arm in order to get me to move.
"Please, have a seat," he said gruffly, pushing me back forcefully. I sank into the couch. Immediately, Orien came in the door. He shuffled over to me, one hand in his pocket, one hanging by his side.
When he pulled his hand out of his pocket, there was a piece of coal with a hole in it, and a piece of twine looped through the hole. Orien carefully placed it into my hand.
"Um, I made this when I was twelve, the day of my first reaping. I made it so that if either of us went into the Games, we could have it as our token. It's yours now, Anatole."
"Thanks," I managed to say, "You know, I don't think I'm going to survive."
Orien blinked hard, and I saw tears begin to form in his eyes. He opened them again, and said in a shaky whisper, "Neither do I. But you at least have to try."
He picked up the makeshift necklace and lifted it over my head. I bent my neck and let the twine land at my collar bone. At that same moment, my father came into the room.
"Hello, sons," he said, his voice tired and weak, "I have something important to tell both of you. I know that I told you that your mother was dead, but that's not true. She… she left me, us, for a man from the merchant class. It was right after you were born, Orien, so you don't even remember her, but I'm sure you do Anatole, if just barely. In a way, you were both named after her, you know. Her name was Easter. Anatole, your name means "from the east", and Orien, yours means "the east", also called the orient. I loved her so much, that's why I didn't realize she was seeing another man until it was too late. I'm sorry for keeping this secret for so long, but it finally seemed like the right time to tell you."
I couldn't think of anything to say, and from the looks of it, neither could Orien. How hard must it have been for our father, keeping that shameful secret for so long? Before I had a chance to speak, a Peacekeeper marched in.
"Time's up," he announced, and guided (pushed, really) Orien and my father out the door.
I never even said goodbye.