Sorry the first chapter's so short! I was going to make the story chapterless and very long, but I decided that dividing it would be a better idea. I promise the rest will be up soon, I just have some polishing to do.
I wake up bright and early, just like I do every morning. Reaping Day or not, I have my morning chores. Ovens to be heated, dough to set to rise, cakes to be baked and then decorated and set in the windows, to attract the wealthier customers.
I yawn, roll out of bed and stand, staring out of my window that overlooks the usually busy street. It's quiet today, almost no one is on the street. Today is a holiday of sorts. If there's no shop to run, or coal to mine, people tend to sleep in as long as they can. Unfortunately for me, people still buy bread on holidays. I walk over to my small set of drawers and pull out one of my nicer outfits. Dark cotton trousers and a faded white dress shirt that used to be my father's. I put my apron on, to protect my clothing from the flour and icing. If I'm going to the Capitol today, I don't want to be covered in baking ingredients.
I make my way to the bakery kitchen. As I take out one of our larger bowls and start measuring out the flour, yeast, water and salt, I keep an eye on the back door. She will probably be coming today. Wanting to get something nice for her sister, probably. A treat for tonight, when the worry is over. Assuming she - or her sister, who is now of age - don't get reaped.
I find myself worrying about her. Being so poor, I'm sure she'll have a huge load of tesserae, added onto the extra names that get put in every year. She's sixteen, same age as me. But I only get my name entered five times. I'm guessing she takes a tessera every month, so that would add up to twenty times.
I can't imagine having to watch her die.
I wonder if she'll have her 'friend' with her. The boy I almost never see her without. I admit it, I'm jealous of him. He's tall, strong, handsome, and most importantly, she seems to adore him. I don't think she's ever noticed me, except for that one day, all those years ago...
I've been in love with her since I was five. For eleven years I've been trying to work up the courage to talk to her. To say something, anything. But no success. There's something intimidating about her. The way she holds herself, the determined, ruthless spark in her eyes. It's frightening, but at the same time, admirable. Beautiful even. In a wild sort of way.
I'm not sure what I'm afraid of, exactly. Rejection? Mockery, even? I don't know. But I'm pretty sure she's in love with her dark-haired hunting partner. I've seen the way they look at each other. Once, I actually saw him making her laugh. Whereas I've never even spoken to her. I sigh quietly, and focus my attention on my chores.
Sure enough, late into the morning, there's a knock on the back door and my father walks over to it. Before he opens the door, he nods at me, and I run to the other side of the house to make sure my mother isn't around. I don't see her. I walk down the hallway and peek into my parents' bedroom. She's still asleep. I go back to the kitchen and give a quick shake of my head. He sighs, relieved, and opens the door.
She's there, with her friend, just like she always is. They're selling squirrels. My father loves squirrels. I'm actually partial to them myself. But we never buy them if my mother's around. She hates that we give money to people from the Seam. She calls them filthy beggars, all sorts of nasty names. I don't care, and neither does my father. But we don't want to have to listen to her screeching. We'll fry up the critters later, when she goes out to the shops.
When I hear her voice, I lean over to try to see around my father's form, which is blocking the doorway. I catch a glimpse of her long brown braid, and then she's gone.
