Reaping day.
I wake up, full of dread. The same dread that filled me the night before. I turn over to see that Will is still sleeping next to me, shivering. His blonde, wavy hair soaked in sweat. I suspect he's having more nightmares, nothing unusual. I lift the blanket up to his neck and kiss his forehead before I swing my legs out of the bed; my bare feet, cold on the tiles. I stay seated on the bed, thinking about the day ahead. Today is the Reaping. Today is the day I will volunteer for my death.
The walls in our bedroom are painted a dark reddish colour, almost the colour of blood, adding to my rising anxiety. In District 2, this colour is all around me. It is supposed to make us more bloodthirsty, more vicious and this is meant to help me, considering that I'm a career. I didn't ask to be a career, neither did my brother. We were just the unlucky ones in our district. Winning the Hunger Games, or even just competing in it, is a huge honour and we were brought up to embrace it. Will and I have never thought well of the Hunger Games or of the Capitol, forcing us to do this.
We are still be punished for what our ancestors did in the Dark Days. The 13 districts of Panem were sick of being treated like slaves for the Capitol, so they rebelled. In the end, the districts lost, having District 13 completely obliterated into nothing. So, to keep us in line, the Hunger Games were born. Each year, one male and one female tribute, between the ages of 12 and 18, are reaped into an arena for a fight to the death. The last one standing gets fame and fortune for the rest of their lives.
Being from District 2, one of the wealthier districts, along with 1 and 4, I am a career. I have been trained my whole life for this and have a good chance of winning, according to everyone else. Will is only 12 and has six years left before he has to volunteer. Last week, I turned 18. So, I am volunteering this year. I don't want to volunteer to die, there are 24 of us and only one comes out. I promised Will that I would try to win. He says I'm scary and big enough to win but I don't want to win. I don't want to have to kill other innocent children like me. Most of which have not been trained like I have and somehow that makes it worse.
I have no doubt that the poorer districts signed up for tessarae. This is a year's worth supply of grain and oil for one person in return for having your name placed in the reaping balls more times. The older you get, the more times your name goes in. For example, when you're 12, your name is entered once, when you're 13, twice and so on. When you sign up for tessarae, that amount multiplies by the number of family members you have and is added on. So, now, I'm 18, my name entered 7 times. If I had tessarae for Will and myself, I would be in there 21 times. But that's just for Will and I. Imagine the big, starving families and how many times their names are in the lottery. It's confusing and unfair but when you're starving, like the other districts, you'd do anything.
Will and I have nothing but each other. I have always tried to be the strong one, for both us, since our parents died a few years ago. Will still has nightmares about it. I know I will not win but I have to try, for Will.
"Cato. Are you okay?" Will startles me and I turn around to face him.
"Yes. Fine. Want some breakfast?" I ask him. I don't want to spend our last day together talking about how I'm going to leave him.
"Um... yes, please." I walk to the kitchen, pretending I didn't notice his lip wobbling, on the verge of tears.
I take out some bread and spread on some goat's cheese, it's the only thing we have in the cupboard. We get food because we're careers and we need it. But we don't get a lot. I walk back into the room and put the plate on his lap. I would usually make him sit at the table but I think I can make an exception for today. He offers me some but I'm afraid that if I take it, I will throw up from all of the anxiety inside of me. We sit in silence for a while as if savouring every last second we have left together. I look at his face, noticing little things like the curve of his eyebrows, the way his lips naturally turn down at the edges, his high cheekbones, and realise that every day he is becoming more and more like me. I can feel tears forming behind my eyes and blink them away fast. I can't be weak in front of Will.
"What's on your mind, Cato?" He asks me, mouth full of bread. I laugh lightly because it's a question he should already know the answer to.
"What do you think?" I reply, sounding harsher on him than I meant to.
"The Reaping." He answers, in a low voice that is barely audible. I nod in response because if I open my mouth, sobs will pour out instead of words. "It will be okay, you know. I believe in you. I believe you can win. You're stronger, bigger, braver than anyone I've ever met. You can do this, Cato." His words echo in my head. He has never opened up to me like this before and however hard I try to keep back the tears, I can't. I think he notices this because then he throws in arms around me. The tears spill from my eyes and a choked noise comes from my throat. I can't believe I'm doing this in front of Will. I don't cry. I never cry. "I'm going to be the strong one, now. Strong for the both of us." And as soon as he says it, I believe it. He is just like me at his age.
We hold each other for a long time because I know this is the only chance we will really get to do this. I pull away, making sure all of the tears have vanished from my face before I face him.
"We should start getting ready." I say, still trying to hold it together. He nods as I walk over to our brown, wooden closet, which only has a few clothes in it. We do not need many as we spend most of our days training in the same clothes, leaving us with just a small stack of clothes for special occasions. I reach into the back of the closet; the place where our good clothes are put. Will and I have the same clothes. A brown shirt, brown belt, black slacks and black boots. It sounds tedious and it looks tedious. But it's all we could afford. We get changed, helping each other with our collars and cuffs. And we embrace each other again. I don't know why, on this day, I'm an emotional mess. I should be strong for Will but I can't get over the fact that I'm going to die.
"It'll be okay, Cato. You will win." Will whispers, and for the first time, I believe him. He has faith in me and all I need is faith in myself. I pull back and grip his shoulders a little hard a first, but then my hold on him loosens.
"Listen to me, Will. I will try to win. For you. But if I don't come back, you need to move on, train harder. When you get to the arena, win. For me." I tell him, matter-of-factly. He has to win his Games. Anything else is unthinkable. I can't stand the thought of him dying, even though I won't be here to make sure it doesn't happen.
I can't believe how much he looks like me. If I was shorter, less bulky and had wider eyes, we could be twins. I'm glad he's becoming like me. This way he'd have a chance to win his Games.
"I know, Cato. I know." He says, so quietly I can barely hear him. That's when we hear the siren and I feel my heartbeat in my throat, my cheeks, everywhere. Will must notice this because he stands up, smoothing down his clothes. "Come on, Cato. Do us proud." He says, holding his hand out to me. I take it and together, we walk to the town square, the last bit of home I know I'll ever see.
The square is big enough to hold our District's population of about 7,000. All of us, the children, are herded into different sections; youngest at the back, oldest at the front. Many people have gathered to watch the Reaping, most of them with betting slips in their hands. I let go of Will's hand as he goes over to his section and he seems a lot more composed than I am. But, of course, he's not going to die.
On the stage is Mayor Rowntree, a short, balding man who everyone despises because of the way he treats us. Two of our previous victors, Brutus and Enobaria, will be our mentors. Brutus is huge, bigger than me, bigger than most people, to be honest. Enobaria has fangs. Long story short, she killed people with her teeth to win her Games, and so, the Capitol enhanced them for her. They're both middle aged but I still wouldn't like to get in their way. Also on the stage, looking a bit uneasy around Brutus, is our escort, Lyra Trinket. I hear her sister is an escort for one of the poorer districts. Lyra's hair is magenta and straight, not even one little hair sticking up from her round, petite head. Her eyelashes are ridiculously long, longer than her fingers. Apart from that, she looks almost normal. She wears no other make-up and her skin looks flawless.
I feel tension around me. No one knows I am the next tribute. That would take the fun out of betting to see who goes to die. All of these bodies around me and I feel faint. I can't take it. Mayor Rowntree is talking into the microphone, saying something about the Treaty of Treason. This is where he just talks of the history of Panem, a country which rose from the ashes of a place once called North America. He explains how after the Dark Days, the Hunger Games were created for the greater good. I've heard this story for most of my life and I know most of it is just lies they feed us to keep us loyal, to stop another rebellion. So, I just stopped listening to anything the Capitol says a long time ago. I can barely hear anything apart from my own heartbeat.
Then, Lyra takes over. I'm staring into space and I've blocked out the world. I'm not listening to what she's saying until Clove volunteers. The sound of her voice jolts me awake and realise what is happening. I can't believe it. The girl I love is volunteering for a fight to death... with me. She's strong; I can't tell what's going on in her mind. There were 11 other girls in her training class that could have volunteered today but Clove has always been the selfless one. I'm volunteering because my trainer told me to. He says I'm the best chance they've got and I can't be known as a coward. She walks to the stage, her long, black hair flowing behind her and her hazel eyes meet mine for just a second and I see her pain. She sees the hurt on my face and knows that I'm volunteering, too. Her face remains the same as she reaches Lyra but I see the disbelief in her eyes. Now, I can't focus. I can't focus on her, on Lyra, on Will. My heart is pounding as Clove introduces herself. I can't kill her. I just... can't.
I barely notice Lyra reaching in the glass ball full of boy's names. All I am thinking about is Clove. And just Clove. Lyra pulls out a slip and smoothes it down. Her voice booms all over the town square. She reads out the name. William Hadley.