District Drowning

Part I: Fish Bowl

1

Today is just like any other day. Except, it's not. It never is. Today is the day of the reaping. Today, every boat will be docked. All sea life will be safe. Save the two children, but we're not sea life. We just love the sea. Because, we're District Four—Fishing District.

Too bad one if not both of these children, I mean tributes, will not ever see the sea after today. My heart goes with them. I just hope not myself entirely. I am only seventeen still. I'm not exempt from this year's 70th Hunger Games. My name is only in six times though I do have a better chance than most people. No, I have the same chance as any other twelve to eighteen-year-old today minus the fishmongers' children. This year, I know for a fact that several families were in hardship. Men lost at sea. Many lost their fathers, brothers, and uncles.

We lost my uncle. Uncle Wallace. His wife Mary and my cousin Lucy moved in with my family about six months ago. I'm just glad that Lucy's only five. It would break Aunt Mary's heart if Lucy got reaped this year of all years.

But, I do have sympathy for those other families. I know it must be hard to put food on the table when part of your way to receive any stability was washed away at sea. So, I know that these families are the ones wringing their hands around the decorative nets around the town center where the Reaping will be televised in a few short moments.

Wringing their hands because their children's names are in the pool of other children's names more than the specified times because they had to receive if not one, but numerous tesserae this year. Tesserae is this form of payment per say. You receive a year's worth of supplies in turn putting your name in the pool more times. One of my friends from school has his name in twelve times because his family needed it, and he didn't want his younger brother putting in his name as well. My heart aches for them.

I'm standing near the front of the Justice Building with the other seventeens waiting for Mayor Neptune to arrive. Soon enough, he comes out along with Four's escort, a plumpish squat woman from the Capitol with spiky hair and blue eyelashes. I think her name is Azure Corte. She's followed by the fellow victors of our district. There's only three left now. There had been fifteen in total. Fifteen out of sixty-nine years of games! I think the Capitol rigged it so that District One and Two win most of the time. But alas, I can't prove anything.

Two male victors and one female. The female, her name is Mags, I'm not sure of her last name, but she's the oldest surviving victor in all of Panem. She won either the Seventh or Thirteenth, I'm not sure. I'll have to remember when the Capitol shows the re-runs of the old games. Next is this man in his forties. His name is Theseus Merchant. He won the Forty-Eighth Games. That of I'm sure, however; he doesn't mentor the tributes anymore. His son was reaped a few years back, and he hasn't been right since. I don't blame him though. I wouldn't want to tell someone they could survive an arena especially my own son when the odds are stacked against you.

The final victor, is probably the most famous victor, ever. His name…Finnick Odair. He won the Sixty-Fifth Games at the young age of fourteen. One of the youngest. One of the more beautiful. It's disgusting.

His strawberry blonde locks and his bright green eyes are intoxicating to all of Panem. Except for me, I find him revolting. He doesn't even stay in District Four anymore. Spends most of his time in the Capitol. He's a Capitol Copy. And that in itself is nauseating.

And of course he receives the largest cheer from the crowd despite this morbid day. Morbid to me at least. I look around to make sure no one heard me. I'm quite certain I said that aloud.

Mayor Neptune now drones on about the Dark Days of Panem and how the Capitol defeated the Rebels and vanquished District Thirteen seventy years ago. I stop listening to him almost as soon as he starts. It's the same speech over and over every year. Instead, I watch how Mags swats Odair's hand from popping the celebration bubbles that the District's decided to use this year. It's funny. I almost laugh, but I don't.

Now, Azure Corte walks up and says a quick 'hello' to welcome us all and to wish us, "A Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." They're only in your favor if you're like her I want to say. If you're from the Capitol. But thinking like that could get me shot by a Peacekeeper or worse, I could become an Avox. I shudder at the thought.

She walks to the bowl of girls names and fishes one out. One name. One child. I mean one tribute now to be shipped off to the Capitol either forever or for a few weeks.

Azure opens the slip of paper and coughs to clear her throat. And as she speaks into the microphone, I have a horrible feeling wash over me.

"Anneliese Cresta," she says loud and clear. And that's when I freeze. My eyes go wide and my hand is griped by my best friend's hand tighter than I ever thought.

"Anneliese Cresta," Azure calls again now annoyed.

I look to my right and say, "Emmy let go." She looks at me and shakes her head. "For goodness sake Emmy," I whisper in a hush. "You have to let go." Someone else helps me remove her hand from mine, and I walk to the podium through the parted seventeens. There is a silence among them. They know me. They don't believe it could be me. I laugh inside at the thought.

"It took you long enough dearie," Azure tells me.

I fake a smile at her and say, "Well, you never know with that Capitol accent." I pause to make sure I sound quite innocent. "I just love your voice and I wanted to hear my name again." Azure Corte smiles brightly at me. She begins to ask for volunteers. There won't be any. I know that for a fact. If District Four's best sailor can't get past a reaping then none of them can. No one claps either. I didn't expect them too. Not like they do when the victors come out anyway, but they do something else instead. They give the Salute to a Sailor. All of them.

I'm taken aback. I've only ever seen that happen to the Captains of the larger ships if they died at sea. I'm no captain. I sail in competitions. I'm nowhere near as special as a captain. I never thought that someone would do me the honor of even thinking of the salute. Now, I feel loved.

Soon though, Azure pulls out another name, this time, from the boy's fish bowl.

"Percy Neptune."

I can't believe my ears. First, me, the sailor, but now the Mayor's son. He's eighteen he only had to get through this reaping and he would be done. He's walking to the podium now. We're forced to shake hands. No one volunteered for him either.

No one to help the mayor's son and the sailor. Of course no one volunteered for us we're from the town. Even if the poorer citizens of Four trained this year, it's a dime a dozen if you get them to volunteer. I've seen it happen about nine times in my life. But once a kid from the town's name is called there's no way a fishmonger's child will volunteer. No, they're glad. And for a moment, I am too. Even if I'm the kid from the town.