So one day I was Facebook and I saw this picture, you know the ones of books characters writing letters to each other, and it Foxface writing to Katniss saying that she was protecting Katniss the entire way through The Hunger Games because Katniss's devotion to Prim reminded her of her won love for her sister. And I found it awesome, and was like 'HEADCANON ACCEPTED!' so I'm writing a story based on it, following Foxface's life throughout The Reaping until her death. Enjoy, read and review!
P.S: If any of you know about/have heard of/like/obsess over Whitney Milam then you'll know she has a copy of one of the original Hunger Games movie scripts. In that script, they give Foxface a name (Marissa) but everyone calls her Foxface. So, I used Marissa as Foxface's real name. Foxface's sister's name, Luce, is Italian for light. I figured since District Five is power and electricity I wanted a name that fitted.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games
Foxface
"Foxface? Foxface? Foxface." my sister groaned in my ear. I mumbled something at her that she definitely shouldn't have heard and roll over.
"Foxface, you have to get up!" she whispers, trying to calm me into getting out of bed.
"In a minute, Luce." I say, thinking about blocking my ears with wax like I read in a book.
"Dad says you have to get up now." she says slyly. I jolt upright.
"What?" I say.
"Yep. You have to get up right now or we'll leave you for the peacekeepers." Luce says, but she ruins it by giggling. I stand up and yawn.
"Very funny, little sister. Now go play, I have to wash."
"Play? On Reaping Day? You've got your head in the smoke." Luce says.
"You know what I meant. Scram."
"Okay." she runs out the room.
Luce is thirteen and I'm fifteen, yet we've always been close. Even though she annoys the hell out of me, I'd do anything for her.
Even die? You bet.
I wash myself in the giant steel tub, scrubbing away the smoke from the factories that's built up on my body, and then ready my hair. Oh, my lovely frustrating ginger hair. I brush out the tangles and grab my dress. It's nothing special but it's the nicest thing I own, a plain russet red dress.
I hear footsteps on the wooden floorboards and tense. My father must be up. I wonder what mood he'll be in today.
"Marissa!" he screams. I wince at his tone and the use of my real name. I guess it's a bad mood.
"Yes, dad?" I call.
"Come here." it's an order.
I straighten my dress and run my fingers through my hair to make myself a bit more presentable before rushing into the room so he won't get mad.
"What," he asks, leaving a chilling pause between his words which sends a shiver up my spine "is this?"
He is pointing at the floor. I look down and grimace.
"That's a mixture of white wine and vomit." I state, trying to stay on his good side.
"Why is it there?"
"Because last night you dropped your wine before throwing up."
"Why isn't it cleaned up?"
I struggle to find an answer. Why isn't it cleaned up? I should've done it last night, but now is not the time to live in the past. Now is the time to face the consequences of what I did.
""Well?"
"I . . . I don't know."
"Then clean it up!" he roars like a muttation.
"Fine." I sigh.
"What was that?" he yells.
"Nothing, sir!" I stutter, feeling like a weak rabbit.
"Exactly what I thought too." he mutters, then storms off, probably to get another drink while getting dressed. He never washes. Or drinks water. Just alcohol. All the time, every night. That's when his hands become clubs and I become his victim.
I clean up the repulsive mixture that's on the floor then wipe the salty tears from my cheeks. Just in time, too, because Luce comes back into the house.
"Is dad up?" she asks.
I fix a fake smile on my face. "Yes. Do you want me to help you wash?" I ask.
She rolls her eyes. "I'm thirteen, not three, Foxface. I don't need your help."
I raise my eyebrow perfectly.
"Oh, alright." she gives in, and then leads the way to the bath.
Luce doesn't know about what father does. I make sure she's asleep long before he really gets going on me. I hope she never has to experience the same things I do.
I wash her then she gets dressed. Her dress is of the same cut as mine, but in a light green.
I manage a meagre lunch of bread and cheese then father comes out in his best suit, which is putting it nicely. The tie is crumpled and done up wrong, the shirt is stained and the trousers are too short. I blush at his apparel.
At one o'clock we head to the square, careful to be on time. I hold Luce's hand. It's her second Reaping and she tries to look cheerful but inside I know how hard it must be for her. Last year a friend of hers named Nekora was reaped. Let's just say her end wasn't pretty. Luce still has nightmares about it.
I squeeze her hand then let go so our fingers can be pricked for blood tests. I actually have a very secret and very big fear of needles so my hand is shaking as the lady take sit. I gasp when it's over.
I take my place with the other fifteen year old girls and flash a smile to my best friend Fae. Really she's my only friend, because I'm the smartest in the class except for her, so no one likes me. Eventually we figured we should hang out because no one likes either of us but soon we found we genuinely liked each other. That was when we were eight and we've been close ever since.
The tension in the air is as thick as the smoke from the factories as Karmella, our escort from the Capitol, takes to the stage in front of the Justice Hall with the Mayor and the current mentors Solstice, a man of twenty-two who won five years ago, and Lydia, who won two years ago and is fourteen. I think how weird it would be to be mentored by someone younger than me.
"Welcome everyone, to The Reaping of the 74th annual Hunger Games!" Karmella says with gusto, as she grins into the solemn faces of the crowd. "Today we have a lovely film all the way from the Capitol!"
The film plays but I'm not focusing; it's probably the same one as last year, and the year before that, and the year before that year . . .
My attention is captured by the boys- not in that way- because one of them, he's seventeen so I probably don't know him, is miming along to the words of the propaganda film. I smile.
The film finishes and Karmella starts talking again, much to my disdain.
"As usual, ladies first." she totters over to the Reaping ball in her ridiculously high heels and grasps around before she finds the perfect slip. She strides back to the microphone and unfolds the paper. Karmella clears her throat and squints, causing my hands to clench into fists because the wait is driving me insane.
She finally speaks.
"Marissa Lesser."
I relax, my whole body is tranquil and I feel as if a giant load has been lifted off my shoulders.
It's not Luce.
The girls around me start whispering "Foxface . . . It's Foxface . . . Good riddance."
It's not Luce at all.
It's me.
I walk up to the stage calmly and take my place next to Karmella.
"Are there any volunteers?" she asks to the children. I scan the girls, my eyes resting on Fae. She avoids my gaze. I close my eyes and breathe deeply. My best friend has abandoned me where I would never abandon her- so I guess she's not my best friend after all.
"Oh. Well then, boys next!" Karmella says after a while.
She calls a name that's unfamiliar, but the face of the boy is. He is no longer laughing; his face is drained of its olive colour resembling my skin tone now. It's miming boy.
"Well, then, shake hands!" Karmella says.
I grasp his hand and squeeze it. He returns the favour. It's not just a handshake. It's a recognition that neither of us will probably come home.
"Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour." calls Karmella, then it's all over and I never have to face another Reaping ever again.
Because I am going into the Hunger Games.
So, how was it? Do you like it? Is it good? I'm not sure how many chapters it will have. So . . . umm . . . bye!