Chapter One - Seven months, 26 days. So close.
Corophon looked around her. A sea of worried faces, a whisper of empty reassurances drifting over them like fog. 'It will be ok, they wont pick us. We'll be fine.' Coro followed the voice and saw Jameson Spanner reassuring his latest squeeze. Pointless, thought Corophon, he can't know that. A guess at best and a bad one. Given the status of the Spanner family in District Six his name at least was in the pot with the rest of them. Coro didn't know the girl, although she had seen her around they moved in different circles. Coro barely had a circle.
Perhaps the girl was safe, perhaps her name had 'accidentally' been left out. There were rumours that it happened, there were whispers and rumours about a lot of things, but few people actually talked about it openly. Perhaps Jameson and the girl would both be chosen. Interesting test for their relationship, thought Corothon.
The sound system came alive with a couple of dull thuds, followed by an earsplitting screech while some sound tech fiddled with the controls.
On stage a woman was tapping the microphone, smiling broadly at the gathered crowd.
'People of District Six, welcome to the Reapings for the 71st Annual Hunger Games! May the odds be in your favour!' She paused in anticipation but the expected cheers were slow to build. The 'prompting' of Peacekeepers gradually took effect and the noise level rose.
On the stage Alithia Golde, her almost perpetual smile looking decidedly fixed now, glanced sideways nervously, off stage, then gathered herself and continued. 'And now, we have a video from the Capitol.' She swept her arm towards the huge screen at the rear of the stage and stepped away.
On screen the pictures appeared, the same pictures as last year, and the year before. The same pictures that had been shown since the Games began. Coro looked away, preferring to watch the crowd.
'Wasn't that wonderful?', gushed Alithia, when the film finished, the Panem symbol bright on the screen. A mute silence then a reluctant wave of agreement. Alithia ploughed on. 'Ok, then, what we have all been waiting for, we will now find out which lucky boy and girl will be honoured with a place in the 71st Annual Hunger Games! Yay! Yay? Ok. Now, ladies first, mustn't forget our manners. Ha ha.'
Reaching out, her hand hovered over the bowl for a second, before plunging in to pull out a ticket. After looking at it for a second she held it aloft, waving it excitedly like a little flag.
'Corophon Slede! Where are you Corophon, come on up, don't be shy'.
'Shit', thought Coro. 'Ok, let's do this.' She walked to the stage slowly, head down, shoulders slumped. Standing next to Alithia she looked out towards the crowd, picking out her adoptive parents, their faces drawn and anxious. She smiled wanly at them.
Hi, Corophon', sang the twittering Alithia, 'and how old are you then?'
Corophon looked up at her and answered quietly but precisely, ' Seventeen years, four months and two days'. Alithia giggled, 'So precise'. Corophon held her gaze and Alithia giggled again, nervously. Then, looking away, she reached for the boys bowl. In the crowd Corophon's parents exchanged confused glances. On another screen, miles away, a disinterested watcher looked up with renewed interest.
A dramatic pause, held for too long, an anonymous 'Get on with it' from the crowd, then, 'Jameson, Jameson Spanner! Jameson, come on down! Er, up.'
Corophon saw Jameson stiffen, then turn back into the crowd. They parted to let him through but two Peacekeepers grabbed his arms before he had gone more than a few paces. How convenient that they had been standing so close, there had been two not five paces from her too.
Pushed and dragged to the stage then thrust up the steps, Jameson stumbled onto the stage. He walked slowly towards Alithia and stood beside her.
'Hi, Jameson, bit nervous are we? You must be so proud.' She smiled her best dazzling smiled. Jameson looked at her incredulously, then looked away.
'Well, Jameson, how old are you then?'
He looked back at her and mumbled, 'Sixteen. Sixteen years and a few months'.
Alithia paused for a moment, thinking, then turned towards the crown. 'It seems that precision isn't a common District Six trait then...' She waited for the well deserved laugh but it didn't appear. Oh well, they would dub it on later. They had been a very unappreciative crowd. Corothon's parents avoided each others glances.
As the Panem Anthem began to play and the Peacekeepers ushered Corophon and Jameson away Alithia gushed, 'Isn't this wonderful!'
Jameson recovered a little and tried to make conversation. "What do you reckon the odds are of one of us winning?" he asked.
Coro ran the odds in her head. It was quick and dirty, took no account of the actual skills of the tributes, just relied on the number of previous victors from their district, but it would have to do. "There are 24 tributes. Districts One, Two and Four each have more than three times the number of victors District Six has. Also, if you add in the number of victors from Districts Three, Five and Seven, who all have about twice the number of victors District Six has. The remaining districts all have either the same number of victors or less. Therefore, there is a one in three hundred and sixty chance that one of us will survive."
In reality it was far, far less than that. For him at least. But if Spanner, jeez, who came up with these names, was to be any use she couldn't demoralise him at this point.
He looked at her, blinking and stupid, like an owl disturbed from its hollow.
'Oh, great, thanks'.
'One hour' grunted the Peacekeeper, opening the door.
Corophon entered and her mother leapt up from her chair and ran to her. She wrapped her arms around her and held on so tightly Corophon could barely breath. Her father stood to the side, looking uneasy.
When her mother finally released her, Corophon went to him. 'I know what you're going to say. I'm sorry.'
He looked at her for a moment. 'You must have your reasons. So precise, to the day.'
'I know, I'm sorry. Ok, so you know at least that much. No memory loss, no amnesia. I don't know that there's time now but I'll tell you what I can. That I'm not from District Six you already know.'
Her mother interrupted, 'We know dear, they told us you were from Eight but you couldn't even sew a button. We put it down to the stress, the amnesia. I guessed it was more likely Nine, you were big for your age, obviously well fed, strong. No signs of malnutrition...'
'Mum, be quiet, you have to be quiet. I have so much to tell you and very little time. Please.'