Sunny always woke me up. It was a routine and a routine was not to be broken even if it was Reaping day. Her blonde curls bounced as she jumped onto my bed, the scratchy fabric of the blanket rubbing against her knees. Sunny shook me gently,
"Haymitch you have to get up now!" She said her voice squeaky with pre-puberty, "Dad says you need to get ready for the reaping!" She said, shaking me more. I slowly turned over in my bed, brown eyes full of sleep and curly brown hair in his face. I put on a smile for my innocent younger sister, and tried to act as if I did not want just to fall back asleep and completely forget about Reaping and the districts and the fact that the odds were not in my favor this year. It was almost guaranteed that I would be placed in the Hunger Games with home many times my name was written across one of the those pieces of paper. Sunny was to young to be put in the Hunger Games, it would not be till next year that she would have to begin putting her name in the Reaping ball.
"What time is it?" I questioned as I sat up, rubbing my eyes and looking at Sunny. She looked nothing like me; it was hard to believe she was my sister. She looked too much like my merchant father and much less like my seam mother. Her eyes as blue as the sky and blonde hair as perfect as District One's models.
"About two hours from Reaping," She said as she climbed off of my bed and walked towards the stairs, "Mama is making breakfast, you should come down stairs," She said as she bounded out of my room and down the stairs every step she took down them I could hear the stair creak and moan with annoyance. I stood slowly, stumbling with tiredness and attempted to follow her down the stairs. I moved much slower then she did, but the stairs made more noise as more weight was pushed down on the old wood. As I reached the bottom I looked at the rusty broken down kitchen that we managed to keep running. My mother stood at the stove, stirring eggs around in a pan. I sat down at the table next to Sunny and noticed that my father was no where to be seen.
My mother never spoke as she turned to look at us, bringing the food to the table and setting it down. Her sleeve lifted slightly as she set the food down. At that moment I noticed the black and sickly green bruise forming on her wrist. At the same time I noticed the even darker bruise forming on her shoulder. She noticed my wandering eyes and quickly pulled away, pulling her sleeve down and the shoulder of her shirt up. She always attempted to hide the abuse from me, even if deep down she knew that I knew. More we were both trying to hide it from Sunny. My father had never been a good man, the evidence for this lay forever imbedded on my mother's skin.
In silence we ate, never once looking up from our food. Sunny seemed to sense the light tension in air and also kept herself quiet. The eggs were dry and I could taste the grit of the dirt that was in the pan they were cooked in. It was impossible to keep anything clean in District Twelve. With all the dirt and grim and coal dust, it was easier just to live with it then spend the time cleaning every time you did anything.
"I'm going to go get ready," I mumbled as I stood up from the table and put now clean plate I had been eating from on the counter. I'm the only one in our family that has to go to reaping, Sunny is to young, my mother is not allowed to leave the house and my father is always to drunk to care to even see if I am sent off to the Hunger Games. Sunny looks up at me with a gently smile. I give her a soft smile in return as I head to the stairs and up them. It was indeed a Quarter Quell, the 50th Hunger Games, so there was a twist to it. Twists just to punish us even more then we already have to be. The envelope with the statement of how these Hunger Games were to go was not to be shown till we were all gathered in the center of District 12. To keep myself from getting too frightened or worried about my current position as I get dressed I think over the possibilities of what the Quarter Quell could be.
The first Quarter Quell was horrible, from the stories I have heard, each District was forced to elect the tribute for the games. I shivered as I pulled the dress shirt on over my head, not from the cold but from the sheer terror at the thought of having to choose what child should be sent to their death. As I thought about it I could not even remember who the tributes from my district had been that year. I know I was taught about it, but they must have died so quickly no one bothered to remember it.
Only one other person has even one from our District. And, they died shortly after the games from drug overdose; I can't even remember the name of the victor. As I buttoned the only somewhat fancy pair of pants I owned, plain tan ones that were only used once a year, I thought about what kids could be chosen this year. There were a few boys that I thought, maybe, just maybe, had a chance. There was a boy a few grades above me that was tall and stocky built. He was stronger, but shy, I couldn't place his name and now that I thought about it I hadn't seen him around school, maybe he was to old to even be put in the Hunger Games. There was a girl too, maybe a year older then me. Her name was Hannah, she was friendly and good at almost every spot she had even played but her parents had enough money, she didn't have to enter any tessera. Unlike me, at sixteen I have my name put in the reaping over twenty times.
I blink and shake my head, deciding to drop the subject from my mind as I pad down the stairs and check the time. I tuck the white button up shirt that is slightly stained into my pants and go into the bathroom to comb down the curls of my brown hair that some what relate to Sunny's curls when I pull the comb though them. They bounce right back into place with every swipe of the comb. They bounce like Sunny's curls do every morning she wakes me up. I know there is no point in trying to smooth them down.
As I am leaving the bathroom I hear the door to the front of our house slam open and the sound of heavy footsteps smashing against the creaky wooden floor. I carefully make my way towards the door watching my father stumbled into the house, leaning a hand against the wall to try and support himself. It does little as he stumbles and trips down the hallway. He is a large man, broad shoulders, calloused hand, blonde hair covered with dirt and grim and in one of his large hard work hands he holds a bottle of some form of alcohol. He doesn't spot me for a minuet but when he does, a sloppy smile appears on his face.
"Haymitch," He grins, I take a step back as he walks to me, leaning on the wall. He smells so much like vomit it's disgusting, "You don't look good in fancy clothing," He words slur together, but I keep up with what he is saying.
"You're home early," I muttered, changing the subject. My dad chuckles lightly,
"And you're up early," He comments, looking me up and down again, "It's Reaping today, ain't it?" He questioned, scratching his scraggly bread in thought, "How many times you got your name in that?"
"Over twenty," I reply dryly.
"A good chance to be put in their games?" He counties, I go silent for a moment, judging on how I should answer the question.
"A fair chance," I finally answer. My father's face keeps up his silly grin, like this is all a joke to his drunken mind.
"Good." He said. I bite my lip to stop my self from saying anything to him. "You're just taking food in this house of out my and your mother's mouths," My father said his smile leaving his face. I don't answer him, pushing past him quickly and down the hallway. He turned and watched me leave, "Yeah, you better be getting out of here! We don't need to here, Haymitch! I hope you get picked for the games!" I wipe at my eyes as I take a necklace off of the counter, a necklace that belonged to Sunny and slip from the house. My lip trembles slightly as I walk though the dust covered streets of District 12.
Once I've regained myself I look down at the necklace in my hands. Sunny made early this year and she had given it to me. It was a simply charm on a rope of leather with the numbers 12 etched onto a dog tag charm. My name was written on the other side. As I reach the square I remember that I never said good-bye to my sister. And as I am filed into the group with all the other sixteen year olds I remember that I might not ever see her again. Or I could be going home to an angry father. A father who would be mad over me not being picked to go to the Hunger Games.
I looked up at the makeshift stage in front of the square and the two reaping balls present on the stage. The mayor sat in one seat, and next to him sat the happy-go-lucky announcer that was sent straight from the Capitol. Her name was Maya Mason and her voice was just about as fake as good looks she claimed to have had from all the make up she wore. Once everyone was accounted for the screen put up next to stage flashed to light and the camera men on top of the buildings zoomed in on the crowd, to get their reactions to what was to come.
President Snow appeared on the screen after the anthem was played. I watched silently, the rest of the crowd tensed with anticipation of what was to come. The President was presented with a simple wooden box, inside of it, hundreds of small envelopes. Whoever had come up with the idea of the Quarter Quell sure looked to the future. He took out the small envelope marked with the 50th Hunger Games and opened it. Snow read it with confidence and absolutely no hesitation.
"In honor of the 50th Hunger Games, as a reminder that two rebels died for every Capitol citizen, every District is required to send twice as many tributes,"
It feels as if the whole world is frozen as no one makes a sound and everyone counties to stare at the blank screen as if it will turn out to be a whole joke and that is not really what they meant to say. But nothing happens and the silence is shattered by a scream of horror from the family onlookers. Murmurs erupt all around the square. I stand in silence and horror, staring at the stage in front of me. Twice as many tributes. I feel my shoulders begin to shake as a few of the other kids close to me burst into tears from the fear. It almost doubles my chances of being picked. It almost doubles my chances of never seeing Sunny again.
The mayor stands quickly and walks to the microphone, pulling it close to him so we could hear him better.
"W-Well, might as well get to it," He said, I could tell he was trying to stop himself from breaking down and crying or begging for this not to be his truth. I remember that he has two kids and both of them were entered in the reaping. He continues with a long lecture of the dark ages of Panama and all the stories of mass murders and uprisings, and how the Hunger Games were formed. Most of us have already heard this lecture before and are to busy thinking over the horrible things to come to even really try and listen. Once he finishes and sits back in his chair, wiping the sweat from his forehead, Maya Mason approaches the microphone.
"Isn't that just lovely, twice the number of Tributes to share the glory of being entered in the Hunger Games!" She lets out a giggle, her voice squeaky and masked with happiness that has been programmed into her by the Capitol. "Now, lets get right to it," She smiled as us and approached the girl's reaping ball. Maya thrust her hand inside it, lightly running her fingertips along the top of the names before snatching one up and walking back to the microphone. I glance over at the bunches of girls on the other side as the square falls into silence ones again. Maya unfolds the piece of paper and reads the name loud a clear.
"Bevin Hawkins,"
The girls part aside for a small girl to walk though them, she looks in shock and ducks her head, black hair falling into her face. There is a cry of despair from the girl's crowd, two girls cling to each other as they watch Bevin walk up the stairs onto the stage. I look from the tribute to the others, noticing the similar looks and piecing together that the three must be sisters. Bevin stands on the stage, tears forming in her eyes as he shakes. Maya puts an arm around the twelve year old,
"What is your name?" She asked softly.
"B-Bevin H-Hawkins," Bevin gasps out between her tears. Another cry of despair comes from the two sisters. Maya smiled softly at her and stood up straight again, wiping the dirt from her hand that had formed from simply touching the girl.
"And for the second girl tribute," Maya said walking over to the reaping ball. Swirling her hand around once again she pulls out a name.
"Maysilee Donner,"
This girl tears herself from the two other blonde girls that held onto her bravely and walked to the stage. She is much more composed then Bevin who is gasping from crying still. Quickly Maya moved to the boys and my heart begins to pound faster, thinking of how many times my name was written on slips in that ball. I wipe the sweat that formed on my forehead and looked behind me towards the Seam part of District 12. I think of Sunny and my mother as the name is called.
"Conner Dennis,"
I let out a large breath watching the boy walk towards the stage. He looked bigger then me, maybe eighteen, broad shoulders and black hair. You could tell he was from the Seam and was trained to be a coal miner. I was almost safe, I could feel it as Maya walked to the Reaping ball once again. Her long purple finger nails brushed along the slips of paper going to one side the Reaping ball before changing her mind and moving to the other side. She picked up the slip of paper and I felt as if my heart was going to stop. My stomach did flips as she opened it and read the name.
"Haymitch Abernathy,"
And then, at that moment, the world fell to pieces. I froze, the name bouncing around in my head as the boys standing next to me looked at me and soon the cameras were looking straight at me. The crowd parted and one of the boys next to me gave me a gently push to get me moving towards the stage. I take a deep breath and kept a straight face, refusing to show any pain. I walked up the steps slowly, agonizingly slowly. I wanted to turn and run as Maya put her arm around me and I was forced to look out at the crowd. She leads me to stand next to Conner who looks on the verge of breaking down and next to the sobbing Bevin. Just seeing the two in such despair makes me want to break down and cry to, but I force myself not to.
"Haymitch!" The screech reaches my ears just as I spot my little sister running towards the stage, struggling to get past the peacemakers who hold her back.
"Sunny…" I whispered in return, knowing I could do nothing to go see her, as much as I wanted to jump off the stage and run to her aid. Fold her into my arms and never let her go. I clenched my hands at my side and looked at her. She struggled against the Peacekeepers, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Haymitch! Haymitch no!" Sunny's voice is shrill as she is dragged away by the Peacekeepers and forced to stand in the back. She breaks down and collapses on the ground, white skirt that she must have thrown on in a rush to get to the Reaping after I left spreading out around her. Maya ignores my sobbing little sister and turns to the four tributes.
"Well, shake hands," She motions to us. None of us move, in fact I believe I might have moved away from my fellow tributes. Maya rolled her eyes at us and turns back to the crowd, "Mind clapping for our tributes?" Her voice is bitter and immediately the crowd claps just incase they might get in trouble for not doing so. I watch Sunny as she cries and bite my lip to stop myself from crying as the tributes are rushed into the Justice building. I know my father must have caught up with Sunny by now and brought her home so I have no hope for her to come and visit me before I am taken away. And as I sit on the window sill of the room that I was put in inside the Justice building I watch District 12 from inside. Many of the kids who were possible tributes for the Hunger Games were hugging their parents in the square, some people pointed over at the windows of the Justice building. A few waved at me. Some blew me kisses and mouthed 'good luck'. I turned away from the window quickly.
I thought about Sunny and my mother and how both of them no longer had me to protect them from my drunken abusive father. I thought about how I had no chance of winning the games and Sunny would be forced to watch me die. I thought about how much my life was going to change. But mostly, I cursed the Capitol in my head. I cursed them for how much pain they were causing me and my family and how much pain everyone else was being forced though.
I've been meaning to write this story for ages, and I'm pretty sure tons of other people have had this idea, so here is another 50th Hunger Games Haymitch story!
Ta-da?