Chapter One:
The district is silent today. Not that it isn't ever silent – because it most always is – but this was a special silence. An eerie silence. One that if you were visiting from anywhere else (even though that is forbidden), you'd instantly know that something was wrong. An eerie sensation that takes over your body. And this is no good sensation: this is a bad one you never want to get.
This is the day of the reaping. The day where a girl and a boy from the ages of twelve-eighteen are picked to compete in the Hunger Games: a fight to the death. The Capitol, our ruling government, says these games are an honor to compete in. When truth is, nobody wants to compete in these games.
They're punishing us. Almost a century ago, the thirteen districts under the Capitol's rule started an uprising against the Capitol. The Capitol wiped out District 13, and what was left were District's one-twelve, poor as ever. They made the Hunger Games to show that this is what we get for making that happen. And the rules are simple: kill or be killed. And that's where nobody wants to get involved.
There are twenty-four contestants in total, called tributes, but only one makes it out alive. The Capitol does this to make us remember what happened long ago: they take our children and kill them in the games. I've heard people go crazy when they're in the games. I suspect the Capitol's laugh when they watch us hyperventilate or dehydrate from not enough water.
The funny thing is the Capitol convinces us that this is some sort of fun sporting event. They say it's a celebration: a festival. Bull shit is what I say to that. I'm always bored during those long speeches, and I am allowed to be. I've heard them four times already: and two more times I'll have to hear them until I can finally be freed from the reaping.
Another thing about the Capitol is their perfection. Their makeup, their hair, their clothes, their writing. Everything is perfect about them. They can't take a mistake. The slightest one and they cry. But what do we do? We laugh.
When they come, there's this huge stage set up in a vacant area where there used to be libraries and shopping malls. When the rebellion came out, though, they were destroyed. Nobody goes there anymore – we all pass it cautiously – until the reaping comes around and were forced to stand on the very ground where precious places were destroyed.
On the stage are five chairs, two for the tributes, one for the mayor, one for a past winner from your district, and one for the escort that comes from the Capitol. They select the names of the tributes. Next to the chairs on both sides are two big clear balls, one for the boys and one for the girls, filled with names of every person in the district on them. That is how they pick the tributes: randomly. And then there's a podium just a few feet upstage from the chairs where they read the names of the tributes.
I'm getting ready for the reaping when my little brother walks in. He examines me with intent eyes. He glances at my clothes – a long blue dress with buttons running down the middle up to my chest area, and ankle-length socks with Oxfords – and then starts to speak.
"Am I gonna die?" he asks in a quiet voice. I gaze over at my twelve year old brother, his big hazel eyes staring right into mine. He's wearing a beige collared shirt and dark kakis. His name was Ryder, and this was his first year when he would participate in the reaping. I stand up and walk to him. I bend down and clutch his hands.
"No Ryder. Never. You're so smart and clever. And besides, your name is only on one slip of paper. There's no way you'll be picked out of all the boys in District 3."
"But what if I do get picked?" he asks. I sigh, and caress his hair.
"You won't. I promise." I grab hold of his hand, feeling him quiver. His face becomes very pale, and his eyes enlarge when we're outside. Parents are hugging their children, crying for their lives. Some are boys, some are girls. I recognize few of them from school, but don't pay much attention to them. I try not to show my emotions so that when he looks up at me, he won't be scared.
We come to the reaping. The stage is set up, and children are already waiting for the reaping to start. We both make our way to a small table just before the entrance. Ryder doesn't know this, but before people can enter, a sample of their blood must be taken first. When he does see this though, he stops and doesn't move. I drag him on, and the woman holds out her hand to him.
"Hand please," she says in a monotonous manner. He's keeps away, but reluctantly gives her his hand after a few seconds. She takes a needle, and pricks it in his flesh. He gives a little yelp, and then she takes the blood and smears it on a piece of paper. And then his name appears next to it. "Hand please," she says to me. I give her my hand, and she repeats the process of what she did to Ryder. My name appears. Desi Romnisce.
I escort Ryder to where he must stand. He stands between two boys that are the same age as him. When I start walking to the girl's side, he grabs hold of my hand. "Where are you going? Stay."
"I can't Ryder; I have to go to the girl's side." He releases his grip, and nods. I kiss his forehead quickly, and then scurry off to my side. I stand all the way at the end next to a girl that I knew from school. Mince has short red hair with lots of freckles. Her whole body was small, and she was an awkward girl.
"Hello Desi," Mince says as I stand next to her.
"Hello Mince," I respond, fiddling with a loose strand on my dress. She didn't talk to me again for the whole reaping session. We wait patiently until finally our escort from the Capitol comes on stage to start announcing the names of the tributes for this year.
Entering the stage is Eustachia Alcove, the woman picking out names for the tributes and the escort from the Capitol. She's quite peculiar: today her color is pink. She's got pink hair, a pink blouse, a pink skirt that runs just below her knee, and pink makeup. Her eyeliner is so detailed and bright that I can see it from the back row. I draw my attention from Eustachia, and look over at the boys side, seeing them looking handsome and well fixed up. Colver, my best friend, is standing almost in the back, since he's seventeen years old: one year older than me. He catches me looking at him, and he gives a little nod. I return the nod.
"Welcome to the 73rd annual Hunger Games!" Eustachia squeaks into the microphone. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Those same words always haunted me; because for two unlucky people, odds were never in their favor. "Please welcome the Mayor while he gives a speech about the history of Panem and the Hunger Games!" She claps, and sits down in the last chair of the row, closest to the girls' clear ball with the names in it. The mayor stands up, and starts speaking.
"As you know, Panem was made up of thirteen districts. We lived peacefully until an uprising…" And that was all I hear from the speech. I block out the rest, and try to catch a glimpse of Ryder, but he's too far away for me to see him. I ponder what he is thinking, and then I glance at the ball with the boy's names on them. One of them had my brother's name written on it. I look back at Colver. The whole time he's been staring at me.
"And now, let us pick our tributes!" I look back at the stage, and see that the Mayor is sitting on one of the chairs. Esutachia is up at the microphone. "Ladies first!" She gives a fake and cheesy smile and then walks to the clear ball with the girl's names written on them. My stomach churns as she dips her hand into the opening at the top of the ball. She pulls out a slip of paper, and then walks back to the microphone. She unfolds the slip of paper and says, "Desi Romnisce! Congratulations Desi!"
I know I'm supposed to be walking up stage, but I can't move my legs. The feeling is gone in them. Mince whispers "Good luck" and then the peacekeepers are coming to retrieve me. Reluctantly I move my legs towards the stage. I let Eustachia take my hand and help me up. And now there is a clear view of Ryder. I see him crying. I want to run down the stage and hold him, but I can't. So I look out to Colver, and see he's holding back tears too. Without knowledge, Eustachia walks over and picks the boy's name. She walks back to the microphone, and says the name. "Ryder Romnisce! Congratulations Ryder!"
"No!" I yell. I refuse for him to be a tribute. "That's my brother!" Ryder is being escorted onto the stage. I can't take the pain though, and I can't bear to look at Ryder's sunken face. Right when he's on stage, he dashes towards me and grasps my waist. He cries into my stomach, and I caress his hair.
"How exciting! A brother and sister fighting to the death! The exhilaration!" I glare at her, still holding my brother in my arms. It wasn't possible that we were both picked. I tried to convince myself that my brother wasn't just picked along with me, but it was true. "Ladies and Gentlemen, out two tributes! Come along you two!" She leads us behind the stage. A door suddenly opens, and she pushes us lightly inside. I look back to see Colver once again, but the door closes in front of my face and I'm blocked from the outside world.
She's leading me into a room. When we're only two feet away from the door, it magically opens and she gives me a little nudge. I step into the room, and turn around. "Can Ryder come with me?"
"Oh alright," she says, pushing Ryder into the room. "Friends and family will be able to come in and say their goodbyes. And then we will be going to the trains." She exits the room, and the door closes behind her.
"Oh Ryder," I say, clutching his shoulders. He wipes away some tears that fall from his face. "Don't worry Ryder; I won't let you die during the games. You'll be safe with me. Safe and- sound."
Colver walks in, and I let go of Ryder for a minute and topple towards him. He catches me in his arms, and pulls me into a hug. "Desi… Don't worry. You'll win."
"But what about Ryder?" I say in his chest. I turn to look at Ryder. He looks so scared and innocent. I don't want him to die. I want him to live until he's old of age, married and with kids. I turn back to Colver. "There are twenty-four of us and only once comes out Colver."
Colver clutches my shoulder. "You'll come out Desi. You or Ryder will be the victors." He grabs Ryder's hand and pulls him in. He pulls me close to his chest, and all three of us stay in that hugging position until a few Peacekeepers comes to retrieve Colver.
"Goodbye Colver," I whisper. And the door closes and I grasp Ryder's hand tight as ever. I turn to face my little brother and wipe a tear away from his cheek. "We'll be okay." I look out a grimy window that shows District 3. "We'll survive."
Chapter Two:
6