PLEASE READ THIS PART:
This story is a spin off of The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. It is NOT free of spoilers. It begins with the announcement of the third Quarter Quell. The 74th Hunger Games had taken place, with Peeta and Katniss coming out as victors. The Victory Tour, along with their wedding announcement, has taken place. Katniss has found out about the uprising in District 8, has seen her best friend Gale whipped beyond the point of consciousness, has met Bonnie and Twill of Distrct 8, has broken her foot re-entering District 12 and has done a fashion shoot of her wedding dresses that was shown on national television. This first piece in bold is directly from Suzanne Collins' book Catching Fire. This is to refresh memories before changing the circumstances and therefore continuation of this book. All credit for the piece in bold goes to her,as it should.
I'm about to shut off the television, but then Caesar is telling us to stay tuned for the other big event of the evening. "That's right, this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, and that means it's time for our third Quarter Quell!"
"What will they do?" asks Prim. "It isn't for months yet."
We turn to our mother, whose expression is solemn and distant, as if she's remembering something. "It must be the reading of the card."
The anthem plays, and my throat tightens with revulsion as President Snow takes the stage. He's followed by a young boy dressed in a white suit, holding a simple wooden box. The anthem ends, and President Snow begins to speak, to remind us all of the Dark Days from which the Hunger Games were born. When the laws for the Games were laid out, they dictated that every twenty-five years the anniversary would be marked by a Quarter Quell. It would call for a glorified version of the Games to make fresh the memory of those killed by the districts' rebellion.
These words could not be more pointed, since I suspect several districts are rebelling right now.
President Snow goes on to tell us what happened in the previous Quarter Quells. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it."
I wonder how that would have felt. Picking the kids who had to go. It is worse, I think, to be turned over by your own neighbors than have your name drawn from the reaping ball.
"On the fiftieth anniversary," the president continues, "as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."
I imagine facing a field of forty-seven instead of twenty-three. Worse odds, less hope, and ultimately more dead kids. That was the year Haymitch won. . . .
"I had a friend who went that year," says my mother quietly. "Maysilee Donner. Her parents owned the sweetshop. They gave me her songbird after. A canary."
Prim and I exchange a look. It's the first we've ever heard of Maysilee Donner. Maybe because my mother knew we would want to know how she died.
"And now we honor our third Quarter Quell," says the president. The little boy in white steps forward, holding out the box as he opens the lid. We can see the tidy, upright rows of yellowed envelopes. Whoever devised the Quarter Quell system had prepared for centuries of Hunger Games. The president removes an envelope clearly marked with a 75. He runs his finger under the flap and pulls out a small square of paper. Without hesitation, he reads, "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder that it was adults who led the rebellion, the reaping pool will consist of names of those aged eighteen and older. Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." The seal is back and the anthem plays, the screen goes black as someone shuts it off.
There's silence throughout our home. Prim remains seated, as does my mother. The only thing moving is Buttercup whose slinking out the back door to who knows where. My mind begins to race. Who will it be? Which adults will be sent to the Games this year? If it's my mother...
I look up at her suddenly. The frail woman who has had to cope with losing her husband, who has had to watch her daughter go through these Games, who was not even strong enough to take care of her own family during a crisis. I've always thought that she was weak, but now it takes on a new meaning. As much as I despise her for leaving Prim and I at the worst possible time, I have to admit I don't want her to die. She's an excellent healer and she's a lovely cook, but if she is chosen I don't have much hope for her to make it through.
There are plenty of adults in District 12. The likelihood of her being chosen is slim, but the possibility still does exist. I'm a victor though, does that count for anything? Can the parents of victors be chosen? I already know the answer: yes. My being a victor gives my family no special advantage in this year's reaping. The same is true if I were to die at this very moment. My family would be expected to pack their belongings and head back to our old home in the Seam. My mother could still be chosen.
None of us wants to discuss the infinite possibilities or the ones closest to our hearts, so my mother shifts from the living room to the kitchen and begins to prepare our dinner. I look over at Prim who remains nestled on the couch, seemingly lost in thought. I need something to do, so I offer to invite Peeta over for dinner and before anyone can respond, I've gone out through the front door.
I've only been inside Peeta's home in Victor's Village twice. He's been coming to my home to work on the book and since he lives alone, he tends to come to our home on more occasions than I go to his. All the houses look the same though, so it's not like it actually matters. I cross the street and knock on the front door. He opens it almost immediately and is dressed to go out into the cold weather.
"Oh," he says with a tone of surprise, "Hi Katniss."
"Hi Peeta," I say, "were you about to go somewhere?"
"Well, yes," he says, "I was going to visit with my parents after the news that was just announced."
"Oh, right," I say, "well, I'll let you go then."
"Did you need me for something?" he asks with a look of concern crossing his face.
"No, no," I say, "I was just coming to invite you for dinner, but your family is more important, I shouldn't hold you up."
"I would love to come another time," he says. I nod, he smiles, I leave. It's an interesting relationship we've assumed over the past few months. Completely civil of course, but sometimes kinder than others. I wish he wasn't going to visit his parents, but I understand. I just thought it might be good to have someone break up the tension that will surely block out any hope of happiness during our dinner tonight.
With every glance at my mother I find some new imperfection, a weakness, a fault, a reason that, if chosen for the Games, she will not survive. Halfway through eating, Prim speaks up.
"Those dresses were pretty on you, Katniss," she says. I had forgotten all about the wedding dress photos. They were also on television tonight, and Prim at least thinks they deserve a bit of attention.
"Thank you, Prim," I say. Thank you for the compliment; thank you for distracting me; thank you for being a perfect little sister.
"Yes," my mother says, "I especially liked the satin one with the beaded neck." There we go, off on a happy topic of discussion. Leave it to Prim to think of a way to keep us all in good spirits. We continue talking about the dresses and the voting for the duration of our dinner, and when dinner is finished we go to our separate rooms for bed. Only, I can't possibly sleep now that I'm alone with my thoughts.
I try to distract myself from my mother by thinking about others that could be chosen. However, the next person I think of only intensifies the pain and worry I feel. Gale. He's eighteen now, so technically he shouldn't even be part of the reaping this year, but with the new spark of interest added to this year's games, he's just as likely as the rest to be chosen.
But then, a sudden sense of warmth runs through my veins. For once, he's just as likely as the rest. There's no tesserae affecting his odds, because each adult's name is only going to be in there once. Gale only has one slip of paper to worry about. His forty two slips from last year mean absolutely nothing, and for some reason this comforts me. May the odds be ever in your favor, Gale. But then I think of Hazelle and the possibility of her being chosen... my resolve crumbles and I am left worrying about every adult in District 12 that has children.
Thanks for reading, let me know what you think. I'll try to have Chapter Two up soon.