Never in Our Favor
Mom is awake before I am, sitting in her old rocking chair beside the burned-out fire, her hair a mess around her thin face. She isn't looking at me; I don't think she even realizes my presence. I slowly roll to my feet, waving my hand in front of her face. She doesn't respond, so she must be in one of her 'episodes'. Her episodes can last hours, even days, and they're constant. She leaves us even more than usual during these episodes, and she won't respond to anything my sister and I try.
I hate the episodes. They make everything seem so much worse than they actually are, but that definitely isn't by much at this point.
My little sister begins to wake up now, probably noticing my absence in our bed. I bite my lower lip and look over to the door, where my father's old hunting boots and his big leather jacket is hanging. Even though it's May, the temperatures here in District Twelve are always low, and unless it's July or early August, everyone always needs on some kind of protection from the wind. My father's jacket is what keeps me the warmest; it's even big enough to fit both my sister and I.
We need food again. The only way I can get it, though, is by going back into the woods. I've been trying for the past three months, running from every little noise I hear so I'm not caught. If I even get caught, I will be killed by the Peacekeepers. They'd take my baby sister, who just turned eight earlier this month, to that horrible orphanage where she would never be adopted or taught how to survive. She'd be dead by the end of this year and so would Mom.
I know I have to go now, while the sun is just now rising.
"Katniss?" My sister, Primrose, calls out softly as she sits up in bed.
She's so much smaller than the other kids because we're always starving, because the tesserae I get now still doesn't fill any of us up and because I'm still horrible at hunting compared to how our father was. She's always smiling, though. Even though Mom seems to always be in an episode, she combs out her hair in the morning and follows me around like she used to follow our parents around. I am her guardian now.
I walk over to her before she can get up and stroke her blonde hair down her back. "Why don't you get some extra sleep, Prim?"
"I'm not sleepy anymore." She pokes out her bottom lip in a pout. "Do we have food?"
I frown and lay her back down, trying to come up with some excuse so she won't get upset. "Not right now, but...But if you go sleep right now, when you wake up, we'll have food."
Her bright blue eyes get wide. "Really? Promise?"
"I promise." I pull the blanket up, tucking it around her tightly. She doesn't need to follow me into the woods, and even though I probably won't catch anything again, I might be able to find some edible berries.
She closes her eyes tightly and I breathe softly in relief, hurrying to pull on Dad's coat and slip my feet in his boots, tying the laces as tightly as I can. My feet are loud as I go as fast as I can through the dusty, empty streets; I hope the animals will ignore that in the woods. It's illegal to go into the woods, but there's no other way my family and I won't starve to death.
Four months ago, we would've been long gone. But we were all given hope, myself included, the a boy who worked at the bakery in the more rich part of District Twelve tossed me two loafs of burnt bread while I was dying in the rain. Prim and I found a book full of edible plants after that that our father wrote for my mother, so we began to scrape by with various mixes of vegetables and fruit until I finally turned twelve and got our first month of tessarae. That next day was when I began trying to hunt like Dad had.
Once I duck under the 'electric' fence that's never actually working, I go straight to the spot where Dad kept his bow as well as mine. He'd made my small one only weeks before he'd been blown to pieces in a mining accident. I grip it tightly as I put the quiver of arrows over my back, beginning to go through the woods as quietly as I can in the large boots.
As I look around for game, I wonder if I'll see the boy who also hunts in this woods. I certainly don't want too; he's older than me by two years and very full of himself. He hates me, too, and we have silent competition going on for who can last the longest hunting here. He always catches something and I've only shot a couple of rabbits before. Sometimes I think about asking for his help, but he'd never give it. To him, I'm just a scrawny twelve year old kid he runs into sometimes. We don't even know each other's names.
A twig snaps. I grip my bow tighter, slowly pulling out an arrow and notching it. It seems like forever before a squirrel scurries out, it's nose twitching. He catches sight of me before I let my arrow fly, but that's the last thing he ever sees. I'm gaping as it collapses; my arrow shot it right between the eyes. I can't move for several seconds. Someone clears their throat behind me, which sends me whirling back into motion, raising my bow on instinct at whoever it is.
"Damn." He lets out a low whistle. If my raising my weapon scares him, he doesn't show it. "I didn't know you could shoot like that, kid."
I turn away from him, going to pick up my squirrel. It's head almost falls off when I lift it and I grimace; I'm not looking forward to having to go into the Hob and beg for someone to take it off of my hands, because Mom definitely won't be able to cook it today.
Something whizzes by my ear and duck, turning back in the direction of the boy so quickly I fall down. He's holding his own bow, just lowering it as he smirks to himself. About ten feet away from us, a rabbit is now impaled through the heart.
"If you want it, you can have it." He looks at me with his dark gray eyes that look too much like mine.
I'm stunned at the offer. "What do you want in return?"
He simply turns away. "I can hunt and you just had your first really accurate shot out of luck. You need all the help you can get. I can manage."
As he strides away easily, I find myself not being able to move for a few endless moments. He must seem to notice me not going in the other direction, because he pauses and turns his head toward me. He's smirking again, like I just fell into some kind of trap. I stiffen again but he doesn't come closer or even turn all the way around.
Instead, he asks plainly, "What is your name, anyway?"
I glance down. I don't want him to know my name or even want him to help, but I know that I do need all the help I can get. I'm not going to be able to provide my family with enough food to survive simply on plants. I've got to know how to hunt well, and now that Dad is dead, he's the only one who could teach me.
"Katniss," I whisper, not meeting his gaze.
He chuckles darkly. "Catnip? That's not a name you hear every day."
I frown instantly and narrow my eyes. He's already turned away, though, and is loading another arrow without another glance at me. "What about you?!" I yell after him.
"Gale." After that he walks away, leaving me to scramble to pick up the rabbit and squirrel and scurry to the Hob.
I manage to get the rabbit gutted in exchange for half of it, and I trade the squirrel in for some more iodine to keep our water clean. I hurry back to my house and set my prizes on the table, planning on picking some berries before I have to get ready for my first Reaping. I couldn't tell Mom or ever let Prim know this, but I'm so scared. My name's in there three times instead of one, so I'm a little bit more likely to be picked for the Hunger Games than my classmates. Of course I'm still probably not going to be chosen, especially compared to the older kids, but there's always that risk.
About half an hour later and I've gotten as many blueberries as I can fit in the pockets of the jacket and piled them with the meat, which has already started to smell bad. I pull off my hunting clothes quickly and start to try cooking the meat over the fire; I drop half into the flames and barely get it out before it's completely ruined. I give up after that, climbing into a freezing tub of water after I get it from the water pump. While I'm trying to get most of the dirt and dust out of my hair, Prim wakes up again and sits up with a hopeful look on her face.
"Do we have food?" She sniffs the air and probably catches whiff of the last bits of smoke from my now scuffed fire.
"Yes, but we need to get clean before we eat." I decide I've done all I really can do and climb out, struggling with my tangled hair until I can put it in two braids.
I help Prim with her hair after she's cleaned up, and she plaits Mom's. We pull her to the table and we all eat the rabbit quickly, trying to ignore the burnt bits. We down half of the blueberries and save the rest for later, after the Reaping is over. I look down at my outfit- I'm wearing a white blouse that's loose on me and a tight gray skirt. Prim is wearing a plain gray coat over her normal clothes, her hair in two braids like mine. Mom is still in her nightgown but we don't question it as we begin to the center of the District, Prim holding both of our hands in her tiny ones.
Our District escort, Effie Trinket, is terrifying as usual. This year her hair is a bright green in color, her face looking like a box of paints threw up on it. She walks on the stage very carefully in way-too tall heels, everything about her lavish and excited about this horrible day. All the Capitolites think it's funny how they force one male and female tribute out of the twelve Districts every year to fight to death in an arena until only one is left standing, all of the tribute ranging from twelve to eighteen.
District Twelve has only had two Victors in seventy years, and the first one has been dead for twenty years. The other one is Haymitch Abernathy, who is always drunk or sleeping. He gives us an even worse name and gives the Capitol plenty of reasons to poke fun at our District every year.
After we watch a video describing the Dark Days and the Treaty of Treason, it's time for the names to be called. I'm standing with the other twelve year olds, straining to see over the hundreds of heads in front of me as Effie hurries over to the bowl with all of the eligible girls' names inside. Mom and Prim are directly behind me; Mom is staring straight ahead with no emotion and Prim is gripping my hand as tightly as she can with both hands. I try to whimper when she pulls out a slip, going to back to the microphone with a proud look on her face.
"Katniss Everdeen!" She declares boldly for everyone to hear.
Heads turn to me instantly and I let out a weak sound of distress. Prim's eyes are wide and glued on me as I slowly slip free of her grip, stepping toward the stage. People move for me, some of their faces sympathetic. Someone could always volunteer to take my place, but nobody is going to do that. People around here tolerate me, so they only feel pity that I, a twelve year old, will go into the Hunger Games.
"Hello, darling!" Effie croons as I stand there, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable like I did when my father was killed. "Now, let's select your District partner!"
I find Prim and Mom in the crowd easily, as Prim's loud cries are easily heart in the deadly silence. Mom doesn't seem to care or notice I've been Reaped, that our family has now officially apart. I will die, Prim will be forced into the awful community home if she doesn't die with Mom before then.
"Gale Hawthorne!" Effie announces into he microphone.
My death has been sealed.