The 2nd Hunger Games
Tessarae
I'm cold. The wind blows inland from the sea and I taste a familiar trace of salt in the air, I lick my lips but it doesn't alleviate the dryness caused by coastal life.
"How much longer?" My brother Poma complains, I shush him gently and put my arm around his shoulders, rubbing warmth into his upper arm and back. We have been queuing for hours but the line winds at least half a mile behind us so I am glad we came so early.
A shrill, clipped accent catches my ear and I whip my head around to see a Capitol citizen tottering towards us on unbelievably high heels, she ignores the crowd and gives sharp direction to her assistants.
"Lights!" She commands "We need more light!" A muscular yet beleaguered man runs cables along the steps of the Justice Building and powers up a huge lighting array, I suddenly feel very grimy and try to surreptitiously wipe some dirt from Poma's cheek. The Capitol woman sneers at the town square and tuts "It will have to do I suppose. Come, come everyone! Smile for the cameras!"
The newscast came last week, President Snow himself made the announcement, the Capitol would provide free food in exchange for us having more entries into the Hunger Games. My mother and I wouldn't let Poma do it of course but I can't say no to a little extra help for our family. My father is a deckhand on a deep sea fishing boat and won't be ashore to sell his catch for another three weeks, my mother works in the cannery, but it pays little more than pennies and not enough to keep us all fed and clothed. Before the rebellion I would brave the strong current and swim out to the south guard tower to set traps for crab or lobster; the peacekeepers used to turn a blind eye to us feeding ourselves from the ocean but now, if we're caught, it's a whipping in the square. I still risk it now and again when we have no other choice, I won't let us starve and I'm smart enough to know the best times to try it.
A peacekeeper organises us into a line and Poma falls in behind me; the strange Capitol woman stalks up and down, complaining about our sullen, unhappy faces. Suddenly she stops and gestures towards me "There! The pale one!"
I don't know why I look around, my skin is as white as bleached coral and my shoulder length hair is such a pale shade of blonde that I seem to have gone grey at eighteen. A motorised camera whirrs its way towards me and buzzes as it zooms in on my face, I try to keep my expression blank and stare only at the back of the auburn head in front of me, it's soon over and the camera moves on down the winding queue of children.
A susurration begins and the queue shuffles forward, winding around the square until I am faced with a Capitol official at a desk; he barely glances at me and instead barks "Name?"
"Delta Alongshore" The man nods and I use my forefinger to give a blood sample so he can record my extra entries into the Games; he flicks his wrist and a peacekeeper approaches me with a sealed, cardboard box. I can't see what's inside but I hope it's worth the risk. As I imagine the contents and begin to peel the tape from the top of the box I hear a small voice say "Poma Alongshore" and I am shaken back to reality.
Poma shrieks as I smack his hand away before he can give his blood sample.
"No! It's just me." The Capitol administrator arches an eyebrow but waves us along with an exasperated sigh and I shove Poma forwards ahead of me where I can keep an eye on him.
We make our way through the narrow side streets and, when I glance over at my brother, I see his bottom lip stuck out and his face knotted in angry defiance.
"We'd already talked about this…" I begin in a placatory tone; we spend so much time together that I hate it when we're on bad terms.
"It's stupid; it'd be smarter for me to take the tesserae because I've only got one entry anyway. I want to help us all too." Poma still whines like a child but I understand he wants to find a way to contribute now the peacekeepers have banned us from fishing off the beach.
I balance the box on one arm and squeeze his shoulder. "I know things are harder now but it'll be easier next year when I can work. You remember how horrible it was watching the Games last year, at least this is the last time they can enter my name…so I might as well have a couple more entries, it won't really affect my odds too much for one year but you'd have to carry the extra entries for six years….ok?"
Poma shrugs, it'll take more than logic to snap him out of his bad mood but I've nothing else to give and he's starting to annoy me so we walk the rest of the way in sullen silence.
Our street of stone cottages is cramped and noisy; we aren't far from the harbour and our neighbours are mostly crew on the fishing boats. The smell of pickled fish is heavy in the air and my arms are beginning to sag from the weight of the box.
Poma opens the door for me and I nod hello to Veera; she, her husband and their three sons live in the two rooms downstairs. I see her curiosity over the tesserae box but I don't stop to chat, my mother will be home soon and I can't wait to see what my life is worth. I rush upstairs to our dwelling and eagerly tear open the box; it contains a can of oil, two large bags of grain, six small cans of beans and a vacuum sealed bag of dried beef jerky. I open our little storage cupboard, the shelves are bare aside from some dried mushrooms, seaweed and a bag of mussels I was able to gather early this morning before going to the Justice building.
As I stack the food I hear Poma gasp and I understand his shock, I don't think our cupboard has ever been this full, even when our father receives his share of the catch there is always something else to pay for; candles, medicine, matches, thread.
"Can we eat something now?" He asks, all glowering forgotten in the presence of such bounty.
I nod and cut him a piece of beef, smiling at the pleasure on his face as he chews and sucks the dry, powdery strip. My stomach growls and I light the stove to boil some water; the grain and mussels are cooking when my mother returns from work. She is a tall woman and paler even than I am, now that her hair is greying; her eyes flit from me to the grain simmering on the stove and she simply holds her arms out to me, I go to her and she whispers into my hair "I'm so sorry."
