Chapter One
I wish I could say that I was surprised when my name was called. I don't remember much now as I sit perched on the edge of a velvet couch in the Justice Building. Only Effie trotting onto the stage wearing some ridiculous Capitol outfit and pulling out one of five slips of paper with the name Iris Mellark written on them. I remember rows of children clearing a path for me and my feet moving as if of their own accord. Sometime along the line I wound up in here but my brain seemed to go fuzzy from the moment my slip was pulled out of the Reaping bowl.
I don't even know how it could have happened. I mean, I don't even do tesserae; my family is so rich that my brother and I have never needed to. Just my friend has over thirty slips in there and I only have a sixth of that amount and this is the whole of district twelve here. Well, I would like to say that, but then I'd be lying. I know exactly how it happened. Being the daughter of two victors and possibly the most rebellious people in Panem doesn't really put the odds in my favour.
Really, I had known that something bad was going to happen from the moment I woke up. When I say I woke up, I mean I woke up the second time after my mother's screams in the middle of the night- they get worse at this time of year. But anyway, I could just sense the misfortune from the very start of the day. I get those feelings sometimes; the deadly accurate hunches that fill you with a sickening feeling in the pits of your stomach. It must be something to do with victors and being so used to catastrophe that you begin to know when it will come. Today, I felt like judgment day was upon us at last.
The sun roused me early as it rose in the sky. In the process of turning over to sleep more, I realised with dread that it was Reaping day. Suddenly, I wasn't so tired anymore. I got up out of bed, got dressed and tidied my room for the first time in months just to keep my mind occupied and stop me thinking about what I thought was coming. Downstairs I was greeted by the tempting smell of bacon cooking. My father stood in the kitchen and handed me a plate of eggs when I walked in. "Morning," he said, but all I could manage was a practically non-existent nod in return before joining my brother at the table.
"Morning, pig," I muttered weakly at the sight of him stuffing down his breakfast.
He glanced up and replied, "You too, fatty."
We ate in silence, staring at the white wall in front of us. My father soon joined us too. He tried to make conversation but quickly caught on that we really weren't the mood. I think they could both tell today was the day.
"Is mom in the woods?" I asked after the last crumb of toast had been swallowed.
"Yeah, she left earlier today," my father answered and took the empty plate out of my hands.
I nod and get up. "Rowan, come with me," I said to my brother. Usually he would call me bossy or some other sort of meaningless insult but he knew there was no arguing on Reaping day and we honestly both needed the woods today.
In under an hour we were there, armed with bows and taking slow, quiet steps down our regular trail. We found our mother by the lake, crouched down and staring motionless at the still water. She jumped when she heard us and whipped around with an arrow knocked and aiming at us.
"Sorry," she whispered, seeing us stood there in shock, "I just thought- Never mind..."
"It's ok," murmured Rowan and went to sit beside her. I too went to console her in silence after a while and so we sat for hours, doing nothing and contemplating the horrors to come.
The Hunger Games broke my mother beyond repair. She relives them every night. Rowan and I pretend not to notice but I think they understand we do. We just try not to discuss the Games at all in our home and it regularly doesn't come up in training even though that's what it's for. Haymitch talks about it though. I'm sure they affected him but not in a way it's painful to talk about. If anything, his alcoholic addiction makes him the least insane of the victors. Because yes, I know my parents are slightly unhinged. My mother always gets upset like that around the Games and the victory tour. No tributes have won from twelve since the 74th so each year she watches more tributes die and that damages her the most.
Last night her nightmares were bad. Her screams pulled me out of my troubled dreams and into the blackness of my bedroom where your parents don't commit suicide and your brother doesn't get mauled by wolves and you don't have to stand and watch. I wish my dreams woke me up but they don't and so I have to live through them until the end so instead I'll settle for this.
The screaming and crying went on for a few minutes until it was unbearable to sit through in my cold bed with my feet slowly numbing. I got up and sneaked out into the hallway. I passed Rowan's door and debated whether or not to wake him but then thought better of it. Rowan and I are really close, practically best friends, and get on really well but he does not like being woken up. So I just stood outside my parents' room where I caught only snippets of conversation.
"He took them, he took them!" my mom cried out between sobs and some unintelligible words.
"Don't worry," my father soothed before adding on slightly grimly, "I won't let anything happen to them."
Soon she shut up and I returned to my disturbing slumber.
That day, we eventually got on with the hunt, catching a squirrel, two rabbits and picking some strawberries we uncovered a while ago. Later we trudged back through the near empty streets and up to the Hob where we traded our findings. Being just about the richest people there, we always make sure to be pretty generous with our prices and generally just buy liquor for Haymitch to keep him satisfied; my parents gave up on keeping him sober a long time ago. When there we saw that guy our mother acts awkward around again and once again he gave us a dirty look and grumbled something that sounded like "Catnip" or whatever. I don't know what happened between those two but I'll have to ask Sae about it some time.
Once back in the Victor's Village, I cleaned up and changed into the Reaping clothes my mother laid out for me. The dress was from a Capitol interview a while ago- we attend those regularly- and was bright red with long sleeves and a skirt that went down to my knees. Soon I had my hair braided down my back in a neat display of what was once a tangle of brown locks. None of us say anything as we leave the house for what could've possibly been the last time.
The square was crowded, people everywhere with dread displayed openly on their faces as the line of children signing in increases. As the woman took the blood from my finger, I couldn't help but looking at the Reaping bowl and wondering if not five but all of the slips had my name on them and right now, I think they did. But as I said, I don't remember what happened after that.
I jump when I feel Rowan's arm around my shoulder. I didn't even hear him come in. Suddenly, I realise that I was chewing my fingernails to the nub and stop instantly. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck as tight as possible to stop my body from shaking. He smells like pine needles and baked bread. He smells like home. I just bury my face in his shoulder, breathe in his scent and hope he doesn't hear my sob. But of course, he does. Rowan reads me like a book. He pulls me out of the embrace, still holding onto my shoulders and locks his grey eyes into my blue ones.
"You'll be fine," he says "You've trained for this your whole life. You can survive." There is no smile on his face today. The reaping seems to have forced him to grow up in the space of fifteen minutes. My usually sweet younger brother stares at me hard-faced and reassuringly with no trace of tears in his eyes.
"But all that might not help me. We don't know what the arena will be like or the other tributes…" My voice trails off. I don't want to think about the other tributes at all; the people who will try and kill me so they can live.
"Trust me. You can do this Iris. You have more experience than all the careers put together."
True. My mother and father have suspected this for years and trained me. I go into the woods with my mother to hunt as well so not only can I hit pretty much anything with a knife and take down nearly all of my classmates in a fist fight, I can shoot with accuracy and know which plants are edible and- since my grandmother is a healer- medicinal. But the careers can be lethal. There'll be ones that are twice the size as me and can throw an axe as far as I can run.
"Just don't die and you'll be fine," he says without emotion.
"Ugh. You sound like Haymitch," I grimace as I think of our drunkard neighbour.
He snickers, his blond hair falling into the grey eyes he inherits from our mother. He looks up again and his face contorts into something of a smirk but I can't tell from the tears in my eyes. The peacekeeper comes in and forces him to leave. As he is shoved out the door, he nods at me with a certainty that sparks hope into me. I nod back in attempt to mimic his confidence but the second he released his grip on me, I had begun shivering again.
Next, in bursts my grandmother and aunt Prim. We just sit there in a hug and I try to swallow my tears for I refuse to cry in front of the Capitol. I hardly think it matters though. The Capitol adores me of course. My family have been interviewed there for as long as I can remember. At first I was too young to understand that these people could be organising my death as I spoke and probably said some treasonous things; even then I didn't like the Capitol. But when I was older, I began to understand how vital it was that I got every word right. So now, I have the audience wrapped around my finger. They even had me sing at the 92nd Hunger Games last year. So I really don't think it will be an issue if my face is blotchy because they'll all be tripping over each other to sponsor me anyways.
Prim sighs. "Why is it everyone in our family gets reaped?" I hear her murmur. I think because the Capitol is power mad wart on the face of humanity who is intent on destroying anything that could possibly threaten their influence on the rest of the country. Something like that anyway. They break from our hold and stand in front of me, Prim still clutching my hand. She squeezes it and whispers softly "It'll be okay." I hope so, Prim. I really hope so.
The peacekeeper comes again and she kisses my forehead before she is shuffled out of the room. This time, a group of kids from school come in. They all stand there looking around, unsure of what to make of the grandeur. I would say I was popular but I was mostly just respected. Very respected it would seem because I don't even know the names of half of them. One of them knocks a vase on the floor and the peacekeeper comes in pretty much straight away.
After that, my father's family come in. I just sit there awkwardly as they stand around the room, none of us knowing what to do. But my uncles pat me clumsily on the back in what I think is an encouraging way and my grandfather pulls me into some sort of hug. Luckily, my father's mother stays on the other side of the room. I can't stand the woman. I think she beat my father when he was young but I'm not sure; he doesn't talk about any of them much. Just as they are leaving though, she stops and looks at me, "You'll live. You're a survivor." Caught off guard by her sudden admiration for my abilities, I just sit there and nod shakily. She lets out a laugh that sounds more characteristically like a cackle and they're gone.
Soon, I too am lead out and then driven to the train. My last train, I can't help but thinking. But no, I can't afford to believe that. I have other plans. The Capitol wants to kill me? Not part of my scheme. They won't get rid of me that easily and if I'm going down, I'm going down with a fight. When the door opens, I am met with the smell of rich food and wine (Haymitch must have made it here first) and the lavish furnishings in colours that are too bright to look at for too long. It is now that I get a good look at the male tribute. Undoubtedly Seam with his dark hair and greyish eyes. Thin too. I can see his mouth water at the sight of the food, probably hasn't seen anything like this in his life the poor thing. He's quite big though. A few inches higher up than me and I'm tall. I could take him down with a knife though. If it came to it that is. I don't think I could bear killing someone from the District. Unless maybe, the other tribute was that awful Reece Mills. He sits next to me in the majority of classes and mostly just insults my family. It's all I can do not to rip his throat out every time he opens his mouth. It took a good beating for him to stop but even after I gave him a black eye, he still does it. He's lucky he wasn't reaped or he would suffer a long and painful death at my hands.
Effie Trinket comes and tells us do pretty much whatever we want. I go into my room and change out of the reaping clothes into a simple shirt and pants before going to dinner. Before I walk in, I hear my parents talking with Haymitch and Effie in hushed voices. I try and listen in but the door slides open and I'm left exposed mid-crime. They all stop the second I walk in and just stare at me. Effie almost pityingly and my mother avoiding my eye with a red, blotchy face. My father smiles sadly with watery eyes as I walk over to sit by him.
"So, what's your strategy?" says Haymitch as I begin to shovel mashed potatoes into my mouth.
"Um, I don't really know. Kill them all I guess…" I say with a mouth full of food. These atrocious manners earn me a disapproving look from Effie.
He sighs. "That's not how it works. You'll be the most targeted tribute in there being the daughter of two tributes. They'll already see you as the biggest competition before the Games have begun."
"Well then I guess I could join the careers, kill them while they sleep. I mean, if I'm seen as dangerous they'll probably want me as an ally. Really the only threat here is them." He swallows his food and looks at me as though considering something. Just as he is about to speak, the compartment door slides open again and this time when we look around, it's the boy. I can't even remember his name. Dell or something maybe? Anyway, Dell stands there and glares at us accusingly. He must know that they chose me over him. He must know that he's going to die.
"Hope I wasn't interrupting anything," he growls. The indictment in his voice makes me wince.
I try and tune out as much as possible as Haymitch goes on about the Games. I don't want to think about the Games at all. The very thought of it makes the rich food fight to come back up. I'm not scared that I will die. I don't think I will die. I'm more scared about killing someone. How the hell do you kill someone? As though sensing my distress, my father squeezes my hand under the table but I barely feel it. My whole body feels numb with terror as I sit there. Happy 93rdHunger Games I think bitterly as I ride off to my certain doom. No, being the daughter of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark does not put the odds in my favour at all.