The morning of the reaping, I woke up later than I usually do. I slunk out of bed, which I always do, and walked into the bathroom. The mirror in front of me showed a long-legged, tall young woman. I had wide set deep brown eyes, and shoulder length chesnut hair, which I got from my father. Our cat, Sap, preyed on a mouse in the corner. Sometimes, he was my only friend. My slight build made me look boyish, unless I was wearing tight clothes, which I usually did anyway. But, not to bed, it was rare I wore anything to bed. I walked into my little sisters room, I started digging through the closet we had to share, since my room didn't have one. She was only a year younger than me though, so we shared our clothes.
I dragged out a pale green dress, that hugged my hips and cutout along the sides. I didn't have large breasts, so I grabbed a handful of tissues and stuffed them in my bra. I decided against it. When I bent over to grab a pair of shoes, I heard my dad walk through the door. Did I sleep till eleven? He was whistling some childs tune, and I could tell he brought home breakfast from the smell of bread. I leaped from the hallway and into his arms.I almost never saw him, he was a train conductor, and drove trains all around Panem to deliver wood and paper. Our embrace was short-lived, because my mother was eating, and we always have to eat with her, and blah, blah, blah.
My mother was nothing special, well at least not in the 'I'm a fancy woman, and every one loves my talents!' way. She was more of a twenty-four hour care type of special. When she was pregant with my sister, she fell from a tree she was chopping. She hit her head, and went into labor two months early. Even after giving all of our money for medicines, she didn't get better. I loathed her for it. For taking away the attention I was so used to. I looked enough like her that you knew we were related, same nose, same fawn brown eyes, but my mouth and personality were all my father's.
After a short meal of walnut bread, thick greasy turkey, and a slice of some white cheese, we walked out to the town square to begin the reaping. Four chairs were lined up behind two microphones, and large glass bowls, each full of slips of paper. In the first one, sat the escort for District Seven, Velorum Kinnimonth, a man with silver eyelashes, long periwinkle hair, tied in two buns above his ears, a long, sloped nose, and the thinnest mouth I have ever seen. Next to him sat our two alive victors, a dying old crone, Pomeline Saltcoats, who won the 43rd Hunger Games, and Blight Jordan, the dull, bearded man, who was swallowed up by alcohol. Not really model victors. In the fourth, sat our mayor. A short fat woman, Cornelia Aldjoy, she had chestnut hair, like most of the district, but mustard color eyes.
The crowd was a sea of pale colors and people, crossing their fingers. Seven had a small population fro the size of the district. We were the third largest district, after Eleven, and Ten. We needed the space for trees. The actual city was quite small, made of mostly of mills and paper factories. It was covered with a thin layer of soot, from the pipes at the mill. I hated the city, I loved being in the wide open forests, where I could propel my axe into the tall cedar trees that towered above the mountain sides. I moved slowly through the crowd, waiting in a solemn line. When I reached the front, a short blonde peacekeeper grabbed my hand. She pricked it on the device they use to show if you are who you claim to be. Although, I don't know why anyone would lie about that on reaping day.
Most people stood with their friends, but I didn't have any, so I stood in the back, next to Juniper Combe, an arrogant ginger, who also happened to be my uncles neighbor. I kind of grew up around her, and I blame her for my smugness. She wasn't as tall as me, or as thin. She was a pear shaped girl, who always wore yellow. She had plenty of friends, but they were kind of outcasts.
"Good luck!" she said, expecting me to reply.
Hands on my hips, I turned to her, smiled, and said "God, I hope you get picked, you're a pain in the ass," I really hated her, she was always trying to be friends with everyone, all the adults loved her, and she was such a crybaby.
"I'm sorry? What was that?" she asked, so innocent, so stupid.
"Wishful thinking," I mumbled. Before she could reply, Velorum squealed into the microphone, with his funny capitol accent.
"Congratulations! One of you lucky girls, and one lucky boy will be chosen to compete in the event of the year!" I scoffed, Congratulations? Really? He dipped a lace gloved hand into the bowl full of girls names. "How exciting! Shall we see who it is?" He carefully unwrapped the square of paper, his eyes glowing with unrivaled anticipation. The people from the capitol loved the hunger games more than anything else.
"This year's Disctrict Seven, female tribute is,... Johanna Mason! You lucky girl! Come on up!"