Disclaimer:I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy or any of its characters. Everything you recognise belongs to Suzanne Collins.
Chapter One
I pushed through the crowds of dusty, filthy coal miners, my hands deep in my torn trousers' pockets. I walked past the shabby, grimy dirt roads of the Seam in District 12 and only stopped briefly to take a look at the Meadow. The Meadow was a scruffy, barren field, but I loved it all the same. It was a sanctuary, somewhere where I could lie down and watch the birds fly by over my head or listen to the distant rumbles of wild animals in the nearby woods without thinking about the Peacekeepers or the Capitol or the Hunger Games.
The Hunger Games. The reaping would take place today. I smiled grimly, thinking of the thirty-four slips of paper that carried my name in the glass bowl. It really wasn't fair. I lived in the Seam; the poorest region of District 12. I had to somehow support my mother and five siblings. My father's job as a coal miner just wasn't enough to support a family of eight. I had taken tesserae every year for each member of my family. Last year's winter had been brutal and I had to take tesserae to keep us alive. Two years had come and gone since I was twelve and had taken my first tesserae. And things were not looking up for my family.
I sighed tiredly and continued my journey. I crossed the Meadow in a couple of quick, large strides and carefully placed my hand over the fence that separated District 12 from the wilderness that lay beyond it. Nothing. I grabbed the fence in a single, swift movement. It was safe. I quickly climbed over it and jumped onto the thick grass on the other side.
By Capitol standards, I was a criminal. I disregarded the boundary rules, I owned weapons and I traded my catch in the black market. And honestly, I couldn't care less. I had to do this. If I didn't, my family would starve. I had never been caught in my four years of hunting, so by now I wasn't worried about being seen by Peacekeepers.
I approached a hollow tree, carefully avoiding twigs and dried leaves that lay on the damp ground. I pulled out a knife and ventured further into the forest. I brushed a strand of black hair out of his intense grey eyes and pounced on an unsuspecting squirrel.
And then I heard it. The three-note tune that signalled Maysilee Donner's arrival. The mockingjays repeated the tune cheerily. Their voices mimicked Maysilee's song perfectly.
Maysilee Donner was my only friend in the Seam. She had the merchants' looks – the blond hair, the soft blue eyes, the pale skin... I stared at her for a second, before she grinned at him and held up her hand in greeting.
"So..." she said, "ready for today?"
I shrugged. "Do I have a choice?"
Maysilee shrugged too, poking my squirrel with a knife of her own. "Got anything else?" she asked.
"Do you see anything else?" I said irritably.
Maysilee sighed and shook her head at me. "Look – I know you're nervous about the reaping –,"
"I'm not nervous," I snapped at her. "I –,"
"You don't want to leave your family," Maysilee said. "I know."
She sat down beside me. The view was beautiful. Green trees stood proudly below them, touching the endless blue sky at the horizon. Birds flew across the cloudless sky, but I couldn't find it in me to enjoy it.
Maysilee leaned against him. "I got these at the Hob," she said.
She pulled out a bag full of cheese and bread and berries and even meat. I gasped.
"How –," I sputtered, staring at the lavish food.
This was an entire feast! What had Maysilee done?
"Everyone's generous today," said Maysilee. "You just have to know how to take advantage of that."
"Yeah," I said distractedly. "It's hard not to be sentimental when your son or daughter's being sent off to be killed."
"And for entertainment purposes, too," Maysilee said, wincing.
She grabbed the bread, tore it in two parts and offered me half of it. I balanced a piece of meat and berries and shovelled it into my mouth.
"Haven't eaten in two days," I groaned.
It was true, but it wasn't unusual. My family and I went hungry more often than not, but then again, so did everyone else.
Maysilee looked in the distance sadly and pushed the meat and cheese hungrily into her mouth.
"What chance do you think you stand?" she asked.
I understood what she meant. Do you think you're going to be chosen for the Hunger Games?
I shrugged. "I've got my name thirty-four times. My brother Dean's got it twelve times and he's only turning thirteen next week. I think we're dead, if that's what you mean."
"Thirty-four?" Maysilee said, horrified. "I've got it in twenty-two times."
I laughed. It sounded hollow, even to my own ears. "The poor pay for food with their lives while the rich watch them get killed. It's good being from the Seam, isn't it?"
Maysilee's lip twitched. "It doesn't have to be this way. I mean, if we didn't have families, we could just run away into the woods with our knives until we found something. You don't think that Panem's the only place out here, do you? I mean, other lands... Do you think these other countries have districts, too?"
"I don't know," I said. "We don't know what these 'other places' are like. They could be worse than District 12. And besides, we don't even know how to get there."
I closed his eyes and allowed myself to enjoy the extravagant meal. "It's almost like a real holiday," I said. "Like we've really got something to celebrate."
Maysilee chuckled. "Yeah, the last day of our lives. Hey – if one of us gets chosen, the other will take care of both our families, eh?"
I nodded slightly. "Yeah..." Then I smiled. "Good luck taking care of my siblings. There're five of them."
Maysilee smiled too. She had two brothers, twins, nineteen years old. They were safe from the cruel games of the Capitol, but not from the coal mines and the harsh reality of District 12.
"No one said you'd get chosen," she said pacifyingly.
The remark sounded fake and insincere, but I smiled grimly.
"It's the Quarter Quell this year. Four of us will be chosen today, Maysilee. The only two people with more slips than me are Roger Down, who's an orphan who survives on tesserae and Victor Lawfore, whose mother has lost both her legs in the mines. His father died in last year's explosion..."
Maysilee winced. "Let's just hope those two get chosen. Death's more merciful than living like that, anyway..."
"It's still life," I argued. "Death is just... the end. Life always has its ups and downs, but in the end, it may actually trick you into believing you've got the even smallest amount of luck, just so you can survive that day and be kicked down the next."
"Comforting," Maysilee joked.
She ran a hand through my dark hair and smiled. "Tonight, Haymitch, you'll return to your family and celebrate. You won't be chosen this year. You'll be alright, you just watch."
I scowled at her. "Really? Because that's not what I think will happen, not with my name in that – that thing thirty-four times! Besides, this never ends. I'm still fourteen. There's still next year and the year after and..."
I sighed. I was being pathetic. I had no right to complain. Maysilee was probably right. If Lawfore hadn't been chosen yet, I still stood a chance. And if I was chosen... If my name was pulled out of that bowl, I'd win. I'd make it to the end and come back to my family. Losing was not an option. Losing meant dying and I refused to die at fourteen.
We finished our hunting and stopped by the black market, otherwise known as the Hob, and traded half of our catch for medicine, lace, lint, candles and salt.
Maysilee and I raced each other through the Meadow and went our separate ways. I ran back to my house by the Seam to see my parents and siblings ready for the reaping. My two sisters were wearing old dresses that once belonged to our mother, but were pretty nonetheless, while my brothers were wearing patched suits.
I couldn't help but grimace. We were a family of eight, starving, poor workers in the Seam. More than half of the time, we went to bed cold and hungry. My brother Michael had died in a coal mine accident last year and my mother was pregnant again. I wouldn't ever admit it to anyone, but I was sort of happy my brother had died.
I missed Michael terribly and each day that passed without him was more hellish than the last, but Michael was resting now. His death had come and gone and he no longer had to feel pain or sickness or cold or hunger. He didn't have to worry about his siblings being killed in the Hunger Games. He didn't have to take every breath in fear of being caught by Peacekeepers.
I felt my mother's hand on his shoulder and sighed. I changed into my own patched suit and washed my hands and face. I presented my family with a bag of rabbit and squirrel meat, berries and roots from the bushes in the woods, fish from the river and cheese from the black market.
My older sister, sixteen-year-old Mae, nodded approvingly. She preferred using ranged weapons, but her job at the Hob left her with little time for hunting.
I nodded back and allowed myself some meat. I didn't eat much. No one had much of an appetite, not with the threat of being sent to our deaths hanging over our heads. I turned away from my food and herded my younger siblings to the town square, where the reaping would be held.
Mae gave me a reassuring look and walked slowly over to the sixteens. I pushed Reed toward the thirteens and sent the other three to the perimeter around the square where my parents stood mournfully. I could feel the cameras on me, on my fellow Seam members, on the merchants and the coal miners, and I felt a deep sense of disgust. We were being treated like animals. Thrown into an arena to die for someone's entertainment. And even if we won, we would never be the same again.
Because once you kill someone, a child, before you even reach maturity yourself, you do change.
The Mayor stood up on the makeshift stage and began telling the history of Panem. He recited the tale of the Dark Days, which led to the destruction of District 13. He spoke about the Treaty of Treason and the beginning of the First Hunger Games.
With every time he heard it, I hated that speech more and more. It reminded me that my family, Maysilee, Victor and Roger and all the other orphans were forever condemned to poverty. We were all at the Capitol's mercy. We would never rebel again, because that was just the way things were. If we tried anything, they would burn us down and think of something even more horrid than the Hunger Games.
And when the mayor said it was a "time for repentance and a time for thanks," I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout and hit and kick and destroy the entire stage. I wanted to make them all disappear, the mayor and the Peacekeepers and the president and the Career Tributes...
Then the mayor announced the victors of District 12. Well, the victor. There was only one. He was an old, armless man with very poor eyesight and hearing. His legs trembled and he was still afraid of loud noises and ran at the sight of weapons. His name was Thom Forrests. Thom perched himself on the first chair, right at the edge of the stage, trembling slightly. No one had ever seen him leave his house, except on the annual reaping days.
The mayor sent him a distasteful look and turned back to the crowd, silencing the polite applause that had come from the people of District 12. Escort Violet Skeet smiled and wished the audience "happy Hunger Games."
I scowled. Capitol people really were stupid. Happy Hunger Games... Honestly...
Violet made a fake speech about how honoured she was to be the escort for District 12 and how important the Quarter Quell was. Everyone knew she was lying. Everyone knew she desired to escort a wealthier district. One which had victors and the people weren't filthy and covered in layers of coal dust.
I caught Maysilee's eye. Her blue eyes darkened and she turned away. I knew we were both thinking about the same thing, just like every other parent and twelve- to sixteen-year-old: the glass bowls placed on the podiums.
Violet cheerily trotted over to the girls' bowl first, her high heels clopping on the wooden stage. She reached her hand in and slowly, mockingly pulled out the first name.
"Rosie Finn!" she exclaimed cheerfully.
Rosie was a merchant girl of twelve. Terrified, she made her way to the stage on trembling legs. A scream of anguish was heard from her mother. Rosie tried to hide the tears on her face, but the cameras stayed frozen, pointing at her.
Violet smiled and pulled the next name out of the bowl. I closed my eyes and prayed that it wouldn't be one of my sisters. My heart was beating against my chest; I could hear my blood sounding in my ears.
And the name was drawn. It was Maysilee Donner.
I held back an agonised sound. Maysilee... No! It couldn't be! It wasn't fair! I shook my head in denial. Deep down, I knew it was true. It had really happened. Taking a deep breath, I swore to take care of her family. I would hunt the entire day. I would make sure they would never have to go hungry. I'd take good care of them. For Maysilee.
"And now the boys," Violet said.
She reached into the bowl again and pulled out a slip of paper. "Victor Lawfore!" she called out.
The tall, shabby, dirty boy hobbled over to the stage. He was dangerously thin, even compared to the other starved men of our district. He stood next to Rosie and looked sadly at her. I knew Victor had also had a sister, but she had died at the Cornucopia blood bath in the forty-eighth Hunger Games when she had been Rosie's age.
I had been so lost in my thoughts; I hadn't noticed the second name being pulled out until I heard it. And then I wanted to collapse and never stand up again.
The name was Haymitch Abernathy. I was a tribute for the Fiftieth Hunger Games and Second Quarter Quell.