A/N: This story I am co-writing with Golden Immortality. We are going to try to update this every week. Let us know what you think, we love to hear from readers. :)
Chapter One
The Reaping
District 8
Soft humming welcomed me when I stepped into our small living area. My mother sat at her table hunched over some drawing paper, pieces of her long chestnut hair, that is identical to mine, had escaped her ponytail and fell into her face. But she did nothing to move them. I smiled, when inspiration struck her nothing could disturb her. My mother was known in the district as the one and only seamstress, mending old clothes our neighbors brought to her.
I moved to the small kitchen when I heard the tea kettle start to whistle. One of the privileges of living in the less poorer part of the district. I poured the tea and brought it back to my mother. I sat the cup down on the table and she looked up at me.
"Thanks sweetie," she said.
"What are you working on?" I asked her, looking over her shoulder at the papers sprawled out in front of her. She quickly pushed them all into a one pile, so I couldn't see.
"It's a surprise," she replied.
"You should show your designs to Mr. Stonewell," I told my mother, speaking of our head peacekeeper in the district, as I settled myself on the sofa. "When you return his clothes to him," One of the conditions for my mother mending clothes for extra money, our lovely head peacekeeper gets his service free of charge.
"Honestly, Sara," Mother said as she picked up a pile of clothes that needed to be mended. "Where do you get these crazy ideas?"
"It's not crazy to want you to get some credit for what you do," I explained, watching her get up to get her sewing kit. "All my friends always ask where I get my clothes and I have to make up some lie. It's not fair."
"No, it's not," Mother agreed and I was a little shocked. I didn't expect her to give in so easily. She turned to face me. "But that's the life we live in."
"Mama!" came my five-year-old sister's squeal from the room she and I shared upstairs. Mother gave me a last smile before hurrying off to fetch her. "Hurry up and get dressed. We can't be late for the Reaping!" she called over her shoulder.
I watched her hurry up the narrow staircase, and then glanced over at my mother's worktable. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help myself, I'm curious. Getting up off the couch, I crept over to the table to take a peek at what my mother was working on. I had just lifted the portfolio flap when something darted across my bare feet. Gasping, I grasped the edge of the table to steady myself. A loud meow brought my gaze to the couch. A furry calico cat sat on the arm of the couch, her amber eyes staring at me.
"Patches, you scared me," I scolded the kitty. Patches only cocked her head and inspected her paw for dirt. Smiling, I picked up the cat and settled her in the crook of my arm, where she liked. The cat held a special spot in my heart, since she was a gift from my father, the last gift from my father, on my eleventh birthday, four years ago. He had found her outside the Justice Building, and had brought her home for both me and my sister. A few hours later, he was killed. Patches meowed again, breaking me out of my thoughts, and jumped out of my arms. She landed on the worktable, spreading and crinkling my mother's designs.
"Bad kitty!" I shooed her off the table. Patches just looked at me, then plopped down and rolled, scratching her back on the table. "Hey!" I picked her up and dropped her onto the floor, where she sauntered off to the kitchen. Looking down at the mess she had just created, my gaze caught on one piece of paper, half-covered by other sheets. I couldn't see the whole design, just the bottom of a sparkling gown, but I did catch one word scribbled in the bottom corner.
Capitol
Before I could wrap my head around at what that could possibly mean, my mother called me, telling me to hurry up. Molly's voice was right after her, like a tiny parrot. "I'm coming!" I called, and carefully pushed the papers into a pile again.
I hurried up the stairs, to the bedroom my sister and I shared. When I entered the room, my mother was sitting on my bed, with my sister on her lap, fixing a ribbon in her long, curly, black hair. Molly looked up at me and smiled, a big gap where her two front teeth should be.
"Here's your dress," Molly said, lifting up my pale yellow dress. It was simple halter dress, with a satin ribbon cinched at the waist. One of my mother's creations. After mother was finished with her hair, Molly hopped down and twirled around in a circle. "Do you like mine?"
I smiled. She was wearing a purple dress, with capped sleeves, a bow cinched in the back at the waist, and pleated ruffles on the bottom. She had purple sandals on her feet, the soles making a thwaping sound as she skipped around. "You look lovely," I told her, kneeling down in front of her. "Perfect for the party, and tonight, we'll have a great feast!" Molly didn't understand what exactly the Reaping was, she thought it was a party, and if your name was called, you won a prize. We weren't quite ready to tell her the truth yet, so we played along and we usually went all out for dinner, meat, potatoes, greens, and even a chocolate pie from the bakery. In a way, it helped my mother and I get through the day, and to celebrate another year I didn't get chosen for the Hunger Games.
"C'mon, put your dress on!" Molly said excitedly, shaking my hands.
"Okay," I shushed her. I stood up and pulled off my nightgown. Molly oohed and ahhed as I slipped on my yellow dress. My mother came over and tied the knot behind my neck. She picked up a brush and started brushing my hair, humming softly to herself. I closed my eyes, locking this moment away in my mind for later. The feel of my mother's fingers as she gently detangled stubborn knots in my hair, and her soft, beautiful voice were only two things I wanted to preserve.
"Sara?"
I opened my eyes at Molly's voice, and realized that my mother had stopped brushing. "Yes, Molly?" I responded to her. She walked toward me, her hands cupped around something.
"I picked this for you," Molly said. She opened her hands, and a yellow flower lay in her palm. "To wear with your dress."
"Oh, Mol, thank you," I replied, taking the flower from her. In turn, my mother took the flower from me and tucked it in my hair, behind my ear.
"You look beautiful, honey," my mother told me, honestly. I blushed and and busied myself with putting on my white sandals.
"Like a princess," Molly added.
Wanting to get the attention off myself, I held out my hand to my little sister. "Ready to go?" I asked her. Molly nodded eagerly and took my hand. I led her out of our room as she skipped along beside me, with our mother right behind us. As we stepped outside, my heart started beating fast as it usually did on the walk to the square on Reaping day. And I did what I always do since my very first Reaping, I wished my daddy was here with me.
District 10
The sun was low in the sky, the work day was just starting. I was out at my family's barn, where we keep our cattle. I always get up early to feed them and to check on my cow, Belle. My older brother, Tristan, was up as well, helping my father fix the fence that was broken and rotted in some places. Holding on to some hay, I slipped inside the gate and walked over to Belle. I dropped the hay in front of her, and she instantly began munching on it.
"How are you doing today, girl?" I murmured, patting her neck. I ran my hand down her back, then down around her swollen belly. She was pregnant with her first calf. I was excited since I had her since I started school; I can't wait to see her calf.
"How she doing, Lisa?" Tristan called out to me.
I ducked under her head to her other side, where I could see my dad and brother. "Just a few more weeks now," I told them, smiling.
"Hey, Lis, before breakfast, I need you to milk the two heifers," my dad asked.
"Okay," I called back. I turned back to Belle, who was looking at me. I gave her another pat and hugged her. "Watch them, ok, make sure they don't hurt themselves," I laughed.
"I heard that," I heard Tristan yell as I went through the gate and made my way back to the barn. Our property wasn't really that big. We have one corral for our cattle (the Peacekeepers don't allow the livestock to wander). The barn sat right next to it, and our cottage-like home was just a few feet away from that. The families with livestock lived just outside town, so that there was room for the animals. There were only two other families with livestock; the Taylormans, who raised chickens, and the Collettes, with a pig farm.
Inside the barn, I grabbed a few pails from the corner and walked down the aisle to the milking stalls. I was almost there when my ten-year-old brother, Gabe, jumped out from an empty stall into my path. He was trying to scare me, but he only succeeded in scaring Thunder, the family horse. He jumped to the back of his stall, neighing.
"It's okay, boy," I assured him. His ears pricked forward, listening to me, as he took some cautious steps forward. I turned to Gabe. "You know dad would be angry at you if he saw you do that." My dad was always warning him not to scare the animals; they could get hurt.
He ignored me, like he usually does. Gabe ran off to do something, play or work, and I got down to milking. A little bit later, Tristan came in after working on the fence to take the filled pails of milk to my mother, who would then get it ready to be sold in town. I was just finishing up when he came in the last time, telling me that breakfast was ready. I declined his offer to take the last pail, and carried it to the house.
I carried the pail into the kitchen and placed it on the floor beside my mother. She was just about done bottling the milk. "Can I help you with this?" I asked her anyway, politely.
My mother declined my offer, shaking her head. "No, I got it," she said. She turned slightly from her work to look at me. "I laid your clothes out for you. You better hurry up or we'll be late. I'll be up to fix you hair in a minute." She leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
I gave her a tight smile, kissing her cheek. How could I forget? It' s reaping day. The day where one boy and girl from each district, between the ages of twelve and eighteen, are chosen for the annual Hunger Games. A fight to the death, shown all around the districts and the Capitol. I moved around my mother and out of the kitchen, thinking about my odds of being picked. My name was only in there once, but that was one too many. I'll admit, I'm jealous of my brothers. Tristan is nineteen now; he's no longer eligible for the games. Gabe was only ten, so he hadn't yet experienced the terror of not knowing if your name was going to be called or not. I didn't want him to have to go through that.
I walked through our small family room, up the five steps to the upper floor of our home. The short hallway led into three bedrooms; mine, my parents, and Tristan and Gabe share a room. I went straight into the small bathroom to clean myself up. I stripped off my clothes and bathed in cold water. As soon as I was clean, I toweled off and shuffled off to my room. The clothes my mother had laid out for me, were the ones I wear every year on reaping day. This is my fourth year. I pulled on the white linen shirt, buttoning it. Then, I pulled on the pleated, blush-colored skirt that fell to my ankles.
Turning to the mirror, I tucked my shirt into the skirt and then smoothed down the front and back. I spread my hair out around my shoulders, combing it out with my fingers a little bit. My mother peeked around the door, catching my gaze in the mirror.
"You look beautiful," she told me, stepping into the room. I smiled self-consciously, glancing down at the floor. My mother came closer, picking up a comb from my table on the way. She picked up my long blonde hair and began to work the comb through it expertly. We stood in comfortable silence as she braided my hair in one braid down my back.
Once she was done, she placed her hands on my shoulders and leaned her head on my shoulder. She looked at me through the mirror. "Scared?" she asked, gently.
I nodded, whispering a quiet, "Yeah." I blinked back any tears about to fall, needing to be brave...for myself and my family.
She smiled reassuringly at me. "How about a little something extra?" she suggested. I didn't know what she was referring to, and then my mom started pinning flowers in my hair.
I smiled back at her thankfully. Even though she was concentrating on my hair, I know she saw it. I loved the small moments we got to spend together, in the mornings and after dinner. We always talked about the little things, laughing and having fun.
"So,...after the reaping, your father and brother are going to round up the cattle and take them to the slaughterhouse," my mother said, making conversation. She always spoke of the reaping like it was something that happened everyday, trying to downplay all the nerves and hoopla. It was all for Tristan's, Gabe's, and mine benefit. Although it doesn't work on Tristan and me anymore, at least she still has Gabe. Then, I realized what she said and it confused me.
"Wait, we just delivered the cattle last month. We don't have that many left," I argued. This isn't right. The cows get delivered every six months. That's the way it's always been.
"Sorry, baby, Raymond's orders," my mother apologized. Raymond is district 10's head peacekeeper. He's really tough, a real enforcer of the rules. "Apparently, they're starving over there in the Capitol." I could hear the sarcasm in my mother's voice. I rolled my eyes. There was no way the people in the Capitol were starving. President Snow was just feeding us more lies.
Before I could dwell on this topic any longer, my mother swiftly changed the subject. "Ok, that's it," she said, speaking of my hair.
I touched one of the flowers by my ear, softly. "Thank you," I smiled gratefully at her. I turned around away from the mirror, and hugged her tightly. She hugged me back, tucking me in her arms just like she used to do when I was younger. We pulled apart when we began to hear the men of the house enter the kitchen.
"C'mon, let's go get some of that bread," my mom suggested, gleefully. Only on reaping days, my mother splurges and buys some fresh bread to have with the oatmeal. The tradition started when Tristan was twelve and continues on today. She calls it our good luck charm, since Tristan was never reaped and I haven't been so far.
I nodded eagerly. She put her arm around my shoulders as we left my bedroom. My mouth was already watering with the taste of that soft, warm bread. Like they always say, may the odds be ever in your favor.
District 8
The square was loud with shuffling footsteps and terrified whispers. I gripped both my mother's and sister's hands tightly, feeling my anxiety rise. I stared at the stage at the front of the Justice Building, where the two giant, glass, reaping bowls sat. My name was only in there once, but it felt like more. It felt like at any moment everything in my life could be taken away from me. Suddenly, it felt like I walked into a brick wall, and when I looked up, it was a peacekeeper.
"Keep walking," he said, gruffly, pushing her forward. He put his arm, blocking Molly and my mother from following me. "This is as far as you go."
I gave a worried to look to my mother, and she gave me a reassuring smile. "We'll see you afterward," she replied.
I nodded, and started to turn away. I glanced back one last time at my family, trying to smile, but it probably only came out as a grimace. I made my way over to the sign-in tables and got in line with a few other girls. There was a small twelve-year-old in front of me, and I could tell by the way her shoulders were shaking that she was crying. I wanted to put my hand on her shoulder and tell her that she was going to be okay, but I couldn't bring myself do it. Not because I was selfish, but because I was scared too. How can I assure her that everything is going to be okay, when I don't even know that to be certain? Was it fair to lie to her, when it could be her name they call? I didn't know. So, I kept my hands to myself and let the younger girl cry silently to herself.
"Next."
I blinked and realized the female peacekeeper behind the table was talking to me. I stepped up to the table and held out my right hand. She grabbed my wrist, turning my hand over to stab the needle into my index finger. This is my fourth year going through this, and I still flinch when I feel the sharp prick of the needle against my skin. I watched my blood appear in a small bubble on my finger as the peacekeeper pressed my finger to the pad of paper on the table. Afterward, she released my wrist and called for the next girl in line.
"Next!"
Just like that I was dismissed. I make my way over to the roped-off sections, where the twelve-to-eighteen year olds are supposed to stand. Most of the fifteen-year-olds are already there when I walk up. I notice a lot of girls from school, a few I've talked to. Including, a short redhead I befriended at my first reaping, her name is Nina. We had learned that we'd both lost our fathers, and we've been each other's rock every year for the reaping. She spots me right away when I stop next to her.
"Hi, Sara," Nina greeted me, smiling. Smiling always came easy for her, despite everything's she's gone through; losing her father, living in the poorer section of the district, and helping to take care of five younger siblings. I could never understand how she did that and get herself to school on time, and with a smile on her face.
"Hi," I said, trying to return her smile.
"She looks good today, if you can call it that," Nina nodded her head toward the stage. I looked toward the stage to where our district escort sat, checking over her rather long and pointy nails. Miss Pandora-Flora Fairchild was everything we've ever seen of the capitol. Her hair, half ink-black and half electric-blue, was pulled up in a fancy up-do. There was something gold shimmering from her hair also, but I couldn't tell what it was from this distance. She had on a short black dress with a gold cape that reached down to the ground even in her feather-covered, sky-high, black boots. Her face was so covered in make-up, I wasn't sure there was an actual face underneath it all. I shook my head, I could never understand how Pandora could walk out of her house, thinking she looked good or normal, for that matter.
"For a circus act, that's for sure," I added, giggling. Nina joined in, covering her mouth with her hand, so no one would see her. It felt good to just let go of all the tension and nerves and just laugh. Until there was an amplified tapping on the microphone and a hush fell over the square. Mine and Nina's laughs died on our lips as we faced forward.
"Welcome, citizens of district 8!" Pandora chirped into the microphone. Her smile took up half her face and her teeth were as white as cotton after harvest. "As you all know, it is time for our annual Hunger Games, the 72nd Hunger Games to be exact. Today, we choose our male and female tributes to have the honor of representing district 8 in the Hunger Games. Shall we begin?"
No one moved as Pandora walked over to one of the giant, glass reaping bowls, her boots making that click-clacking sound on the stage. She stopped right behind the bowl and gazed out at the crowd. "Our female tribute will be..."
I held my breath as she plunged her hand into the bowl. It seemed to circle the bowl several times, mixing the slips of paper inside. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself down. My chances of being picked are slim, one piece of paper out of hundreds, improbable. After the reaping, Molly, my mother, and I will sit down at our kitchen table to have our dinner, we 'll laugh over dessert, and then we'll go to bed, full and happy, because I'll be safe for another year. I smiled at the thought, wanting, anxiously, for it to be true.
"Sara Brennan!"
My eyes snapped open, my face a mask of horror and fear. This couldn't happen, it was somebody else's name. My name was only in there once, it couldn't happen. All the girls in my row turned their heads to stare at me. It was my name.
"Sara Brennan?!" Pandora called again, scanning the rows of girls. "Where are you?"
Licking my lips, I started moving toward the stage, the other girls parting to let me through. When I broke free of the group, a peacekeeper took my elbow and started leading me to the stage. He probably thought I would make a break for it, but even if I could, I wouldn't know where to go. They would come to my house to get me, my school, they would find me. Anyway, I moved as if I were in a dream, my feet almost dragging through the loose gravel, so I don't think I would be able to run if I wanted to.
We reach the stairs, but as I lifted my foot to step up, I missed and I fell to my knees. I winced as my skin scraped against the concrete steps. Murmurs erupted from the crowd, and I felt myself blush. The peacekeeper jerked me to my feet so fast, I got dizzy for a moment. I glanced at him first, then climbed the steps slowly. Pandora was waiting for me in the center of the stage, and she gestured for me to come closer.
"Very nice," Pandora said, when I was close enough, as she placed me next to her. "Now, for our male tribute."
I stared out at the crowd of people below me as Pandora reached her hand into the other glass reaping bowl. She hummed a short tune and smiled out at the crowd. I felt vile rise up from stomach and I swallowed hard to keep it down. Pandora had a slip of paper now and was now walking back to the microphone. She opened up the paper, and took a dramatic pause.
"Anthony Lawson!"
I didn't recognize the name, but there was movement in the second row of boys. A thirteen-year-old boy stepped out of the row, and pulled himself up taller, brushing off the peacekeeper's hand. His hair was shaved close to his head, so I couldn't really tell what color it was, and he wore a confident, indifferent mask as he strode up to the stage. He wore dark brown slacks and a navy-blue buttoned-down shirt, that was starting to come untucked in the front. He bounded up the steps and was beside me before I could blink.
"And there we have it," Pandora announced. "Our tributes of district 8 in the 72nd Hunger Games!"
This is when we're supposed to shake hands. I turned toward Anthony. Though he was about a head shorter than me, Anthony stared me square in the eye, and I knew right then, that we weren't going to be friends. Anthony took my hand in a strong, firm grip, shook once, and then abruptly let go. There was polite clapping from the audience and I found myself looking for my family. They were standing near the back, my mother was holding Molly, so she could see. Molly saw me looking, and gave me a big wave, a big smile on her face. I managed to give her small wave back, when Pandora ushered me and Anthony inside the Justice Building. I tried to catch another glimpse of my family before the doors closed, but I couldn't and it was too late.
District 10
We arrived in the main hub of district 10, where the Justice Building and the shops were located. The streets were already getting crowded with people heading to the square for the reaping. My father steered the chocolate brown gelding off to the side of the street, and jumped down from the helm. He tied Thunder off, then helped my mother down. Tristan, Gabe, and I hopped down from the wagon. I smoothed down my skirt, noting my brothers' similar clothes today. They both wore dark blue trousers and white shirts. Though, right on schedule, Gabe's shirt was already rumpled and becoming untucked. My mother started fussing with him, making him more presentable. My father unloaded the milk crates.
"We're going to take these to the shipping yard," my dad explained to the three of us. "Tristan, walk your sister to the square. Gabriel, make sure you stay with them this time. We don't need another run in with the peacekeepers." Father stepped over to me, giving me an one-armed hug. He kissed the center of my forehead. "Good luck," he whispered. He didn't show his emotions very often, but I could tell now that he was worried about me.
I smiled at him, giving him a brave smile. My mother appeared next to me, reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze. "We'll be back soon. We're here for you," she murmured to me. I nodded, and watched my parents leave together with the milk crates.
After a minute, Tristan gathered us together. "Come on, let's get going," he said.
We began walking to the square, with Gabe between Tristan and I so that he didn't get into any trouble. Soon, we began to hear the sounds of swords clanking together and claps of cheer. I knew what it was before we could even see it. We pushed through the small gathered group, Tristan planting his hands on mine and Gabe's shoulders to keep us close.
Two young men, about seventeen, were dueling with swords; play-fighting. They were laughing and egging the other on. My eyes were instantly drawn to the taller of the two. His brown hair was falling into his eyes a bit, even though he had originally brushed it back for the reaping. His green eyes glowed with intensity and joy. He wore brown trousers with suspenders and a cream colored shirt, which fit him nicely over his strong arms and chest. Not that I was looking, that is. His name is Skylar Mills. Everybody knows him, because his father is the butcher. I've spoken to him whenever I picked up the meat for dinner, which was starting to be a regular thing. He's so easy to talk to and he's not conceited or overconfident. I'd like to say that we're friends.
Skylar had the edge over his friend. The other guy tripped himself up and fell flat on his back. Skylar grabbed the opportunity and touched the tip of his sword to his friend's chest. "Give, Teddy?" Skylar asked him, chuckling.
"Alright, alright, you win...again," Teddy pushed away the sword, laughing, and extended his hand for Skylar's help. Skylar helped him up, and they started joking around as the small crowd clapped for them.
I started to clap, too, but Tristan stopped me without looking at me. "You really shouldn't encourage them," he muttered. "They're just provoking the peacekeepers."
Right on cue, the peacekeepers disrupted the scene, pushing everybody toward the square. "Let's go! Move it along!" Raymond ordered, in a loud clear voice. "Let's go!"
Everybody quieted down, and began to move in line to the check in table. As Skylar and his friend, Teddy, moved to join the rest, his gaze caught mine. He offered me a sincere, friendly smile, putting up his hand in a small wave. I smiled back at him, until I lost him in the crowd.
"Ok, Lis," Tristan said, pulling my attention back to him. "We're going to the barricades now, save a spot for mom and dad."
I nodded and gulped, my nerves all of a sudden overwhelming me again. It seems I was only to have a short reprieve from them. Gabe wrapped his arms around my waist in a supportive hug. I leaned into his hug barely, putting my wooden arms across his back lightly. Tristan placed his hand on my shoulder, and I looked up at him.
"Good luck," Tristan told me, squeezing my shoulder lightly. "We'll see you after the reaping." I nodded again, my mouth to dry for words. Tristan peeled Gabe off of me and the two of them walked away, leaving me here by myself. This was the first time I was by myself and I didn't like it. I took a deep breath, and joined the rest of my peers.
The line moved quickly, efficiently, and, most importantly, silently. Before I knew it, the woman seated at the table was calling 'next' to me. I stepped up to the table, reaching out with my right hand. I would have offered the woman a small smile had she looked up at me, which she didn't. She just flipped my hand over, and pricked my index finger. I've been through this before, so I didn't flinch, but it still stung for a second. She scanned my blood until my name registered, then she pressed my finger down on her book next to my name, smearing the blood in the little box. She sent me on my way after that, and called for the next person in line; a pale faced twelve year old girl, shaking from fear.
I walked down the main aisle, where the girls and boys were separated onto either side and from there, into age groups. The sections were slowly filling up with kids. The parents and other adults were gathering just beyond this area, behind the ropes. I found where I was supposed to be, and slipped in with the other fifteen year old girls. I said hi to Margo and Casey, girls I know from school but we didn't chat. There was nothing really to say.
I glanced toward the Justice Building and the stage. A microphone stood in the very center of the stage, with three chairs in the back on the right. Two of the chairs were filled, one by the mayor and the other by our victor, Cliff Disdale. He sat comfortably in his chair with his arms folded, staring straight ahead. He wore basically the same clothes as the other men, only in dark colors, his black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he wore his signature scowl. We did have two victors, but the other victor went a little crazy after the games and killed herself.
My eyes ran over the stage to the two big, glass reaping bowls on either side of the microphone. One for the boys, one for the girls. They were filled with little slips of paper will all our names on it. I quickly looked away from the bowls, knowing that my fate lies inside. It was then that I saw that more people had come. I tried to look around them to find my family in the crowd, but there were too many people in the way.
Suddenly, my attention was pulled back to the stage when I heard the sound of high heels walking across the stage to the microphone. It was our district escort from the Capitol, Camilla Swan. She was a tall woman with a platinum blond bob hairdo. Her face was adorned with very bold and loud gold makeup, and her earrings just about touched her shoulders. Her gold pantsuit looked like it was really made out of gold. She definitely stood out in District 10.
"Welcome!" Camilla announced into the microphone. She was smiling grandly, like this was the happiest of all occasions. "This is our 72nd annual Hunger Games, such a joyous occasion." The crowd was silent as she gazed around at us enthusiastically. "It is now time to pick the lucky boy and girl who will represent our wonderful district in the year's Hunger Games. We'll start...with the girls."
Camilla walked over to the reaping bowl on her left. I sucked in a breath, feeling my heart start pounding. She smiled at us again, raised her hand with a flourish, and then dove her hand into the bowl. It felt like an eternity before she plucked up a slip of paper and pulled her hand from the bowl. Camilla walked back over to the microphone to announce the female tribute. She unfolded the piece of paper, cleared her throat, and read off the name.
"Lisa Kentworthy."
My heart stopped. Me. I breathed short, uneven breaths, trying not to succumb to my panic. The silence was loud in my ears. The girls around me moved aside to let me pass, giving me sympathetic looks. I stared straight ahead at Camilla, hoping beyond hope that she said a different name and I'll see another girl step onto the stage. That didn't happen.
"Lisa, dear, where are you?" Camilla called out, searching for me.
Hearing my name broke me from my trance. I masked my fear and began walking. My heart had started again, and it threatened to burst out of my chest. I couldn't let it show; I needed to be strong and brave, for my family. I stepped out of my section of girls, into the main aisle.
A strangled cry escaped my mother's lips, and I whipped my head around. My mother was bent over in my father's arms, reaching to me and sobbing. My father looked at me with sadness in his eyes. Tristan was busy trying to keep Gabe from running to me. I wanted so badly to run back to them and let them take me away, that I actually took a step toward them. The peacekeepers grabbed a hold my arms instantly, and jerked me around to face the stage. They stayed behind me as I walked to the stage, just in case I decided to break their perfect organization. I climbed the stairs slowly, as Camilla was motioning me closer.
When I stepped onto the stage, Camilla placed her hand on my back and led me over to stand beside her at the microphone. "I know you're probably bubbling with excitement, aren't you?" she asked me, rhetorically. She was trying for reassurance, but it wasn't working. "I know I am." I glanced at her mutely, then looked out at the crowd, lifting my chin bravely.
"Now, let's pick your male counterpart," Camilla grinned. She squeezed my shoulders once, before walking over to the other reaping bowl. She flourished her hand again and dove into the bowl. She moved her hand in a circle, then she picked a name. Moving back over to the microphone, she unfolded the slip of paper.
"Skylar Mills."
My eyes automatically found him in the crowd. He was startled and there was a flash of nerves and fear on his face. It was only there for a nanosecond. Skylar hid it away, putting on his swordsman face. He walked toward the stage with a determined stride and came up the stairs in three bounds. Skylar came to stand next to Camilla. I was watching him. He gave me a nod and a small smile.
"May I present to you, your district 10 tributes, Lisa Kentworthy and Skylar Mills," Camilla exclaimed, in a singsong voice, with her arms extended out towards Skylar and I. "of the 72nd Hunger Games!"
Skylar and I turned to one another. He held out his hand and I slipped my hand into his, shaking it. His hand was large, warm, and nice to hold. I looked up into his green eyes and found the reassurance I was looking for. He didn't need to say any words; the soft, intimate look on his face was all I needed. For that one moment, I felt safe and secure.
"And may the odds be ever in your favor!" Camilla finished up, with a flourish. The people of district 10 clapped slowly for us. Then, Camilla ushered us inside the Justice Building.
District 8
I sat curled up in an overstuffed armchair, clutching a pillow to my chest. I let the tears come now, with no one around to see. I thought about everything I was losing, my home, my family. Just thinking about Molly, I wasn't sure how I was going to explain this to her. She and my mom would be here soon for my five minute good-bye session. How kind of the peacekeepers to give me that. Molly was probably already confused, when I didn't meet them after the reaping. I, my mother too, hadn't wanted her to know the true reality of the world she lived in just yet, but I guess now we have no choice.
I looked around the sparse room, with it's two narrow windows and single light on the ceiling. The only things in the room was a matching chair to the one I was sitting in, a couch opposite me and a small table in the middle. The room was devoid of all life and attachment. It made me miss my own house already, and my tears came down faster, knowing I'll never see or walk through the front door again. The door to the room started to creak open and I wiped away my tears, not wanting my sister to see me upset. I tossed the pillow aside and sat up straighter.
"Sara!"
Molly burst into the room and I stood up to catch her. She threw her arms around me and I held her tight, not wanting to let her go. "Sara, why are you in here?" Molly asked, her voice muffled from her face being pressed into my shoulder. "Why did the peacekeepers tell us, we only have five minutes to see you? Aren't you coming home with us?"
I sighed quietly and put Molly down. I looked up at my mother, who shook her head sadly. "Molly," I started, kneeling down in front of her. "I'm going to have to go away for a little while." I swallowed back the sob that threatened to come out.
"Where are you going?" Molly asked.
Again I hesitated and looked up to my mother. She nodded for me to continue. "The capitol," I answered simply.
"Cool!" Molly said excitedly. "Can I come?"
I shook my head, smiling slightly at her misplaced excitement. "I'm sorry, Molly, you can't," I told her. My eyes started to mist over as I saw her face fall. "You have to stay here with mom."
"Ok, but can we still have our dinner?" Molly asked again.
I choked on a sob as I stared at her expectant face. I shook my head and I stood up, unable to answer her. "Mama, what's wrong? Why's Sara crying?"
"Molly, sweetie," my mother said, pulling my sister aside. "Sara can't come home with us right now." Molly started to protest, but my mother interrupted her. "But I promise you, we'll have a big feast tonight, bigger than we've ever had, for Sara." My mother glanced up at me when she said the last part.
I wiped my eyes again as Molly turned toward me, and pulled the yellow flower from my hair. I walked over to her and held my hand out to her. "I want you to have this," I told her.
"But I gave this to you," Molly said. "You're not supposed to give back presents."
"I know, but I want you to keep it safe for...me." I was about to say for when I get back, but stopped myself. I didn't want to promise her anything that I know I wouldn't be able to keep.
"Until you get back?" Molly finished for me anyway. I nodded, unable to say the words. "Ok, I'll wear it in my hair everyday to keep it safe." She took the stem gingerly in her hand. I stroked her hair as she moved off to sit on the couch.
I looked up at my mother, then. "Mom!" I cried. She held her arms out to me and I ran into them. As soon as her arms came around me, I wanted to just let everything go and cry. But I couldn't do that in front of Molly, I had to be brave for her. "Mom, I'm scared." I managed to get out, while also holding back my tears.
"I know," she soothed, rubbing circles on my back. I don't know what scared me more, the catch in her voice when she spoke or the fact that she didn't try to tell me that it was going to be okay. She pulled back a little to look me in the eye. "Sara, I love you, I know I haven't said that in a while, but I do. I want you to carry that with you, into the capitol and the arena, and you'll never be alone." My mother placed a folded piece of paper into the pocket of my dress, and I looked up at her curiously, a question on my lips. She placed a finger to her lips, and then pulled me in for another hug. Suddenly, the door banged opened and three peacekeepers flooded into the room.
"Time's up!" a peacekeeper announced as my mother was ripped from my arms.
"Sara!" Molly exclaimed, but before she could run to me, another peacekeeper grabbed her and started pulling her to the exit. "Mama! Sara, what's happening?"
Right before the door closed, my mother turned to me and mouthed I love you one more time. Then, the door slammed shut and I felt it reverberate in my chest, where a hollow, aching pain was starting. Despite what my mother had told me, I was alone.
District 10
Two peacekeepers brought me to a small room, alone. The room was not overly decorated. There was a bare threadbare couch and a table against one wall, a simple lamp sat on the table, and a nearly empty bookcase sat opposite them. I stood at the one window overlooking the square. I knew this was the part where I say goodbye to my family. I didn't know if I had the strength to do that. To look at their faces and know that I could never see them again,...I could break down right now. I took a deep breath to steady myself. Because, if I'm being honest with myself, I don't really have a strong chance at winning the Hunger Games. It would be a long shot.
I heard the click of the door opening. I turned around in time to see my little brother scramble into the room and barrel into my arms. I wrapped my arms around him and knelt down to his level. His face was tear-streaked and mumbling something repeatedly.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Gabe cried into my shoulder. "I'm sorry I was mean and rude to you! I'm sorry, I won't do it again!"
"Hey, hey," I said, soothingly. I pulled him away gently, holding his face in my hands. "You didn't do this, I was just picked. You didn't do this, okay?"
Gabe nodded and sniffled, but his tears didn't stop falling. I wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Hey, I want you to do something for me, ok?" I waited for him to nod again before I continued. "I want you to take care of Belle for me, make sure her and her calf are healthy. Can you do that for me?"
Gabe sniffed again, his tears stopping. "Yes, I'll do it," he nodded. "I'll take care of her for you, and you'll be so proud of me when you get back."
I nearly choked on a sob when he said that. Instead, I just gave him a smile. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I might not be coming home. I pulled him into another hug. The rest of my family had come into the room. I stood up, and Tristan pulled me into his strong arms. I put my arms around his back.
"I'm sorry," Tristan whispered in my ear. I didn't say anything, I just held on to him for as long as I could. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you."
"You couldn't have done anything," I whispered back. I felt him shake his head, disagreeing. I knew what he meant and I wouldn't have liked it. Then, it was my mother's turn.
She held her arms out to me, sobbing. "My baby!" she cried. We fell into each other's arms. I clung to her, trying really hard to hold my tears at bay. "My little girl! No!" my mother continued to cry.
"I'll be fine, mom," I reassured her, though I didn't know how much it helped. My mother pulled back, looking at me. It looked like she was studying me, trying to mesmerize everything about me. I did the same. We were pretty much similar. The same blond hair, except hers was cut short, the same hazel eyes. "I love you," I told her.
"I love you, to the moon and stars and back," she said back, repeating what she used to tell me when I was little. We hugged again, tightly.
My father came over to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. I glanced up at him. "You are brave, and you are strong," he murmured to me. "Whatever happens in that arena, we're proud of you."
My eyes misted over with tears and I blinked my eyes rapidly to keep them from falling. I didn't want anything to blur my final moment of seeing my family. "Thank you," I whispered back to him. I hugged my mother and father one last time.
Suddenly, the door opened again, this time slamming against the wall loudly. The two peacekeepers who had escorted me to this room returned. "Time's up," one of them stated, expressionlessly.
My family reached for me again to hug me before the peacekeepers pulled them away. I desperately touched each one of them, not wanting to lose them just yet. I clung to them. "Let's go!" the peacekeeper ordered. They grabbed a hold of my father and Tristan, believing that my mother and Gabe will follow after them.
"No, please, no!" my mother cried, as my father pulled her from the room. The door slammed shut in my face and, just like that, my family was gone. I was all alone again. I felt the loneliness press down on me like a ton of bricks. Fear and uncertainty froze my heart in a vice-like grip. A lone tear slid slowly down my cheek, as I stared into my unsure future.
A/N: Well, what do you all think? Please us what you think in your reviews. The next chapter will be up on Friday. :)