I walk into the market, which is empty of all life except for a few people running their stands. I walk up to Remmy, the old man who sells fruit. His gray hair and long scraggly beard, blue eyes and almost completely toothless smile greets me.
He has a few apple trees in his backyard and comes every so often to sell them. I love apples and come here to buy one everyday before school. But today is different, today is the day of the Reaping. Here in District 2, where winning the Hunger Games is a huge honor and you can almost be guaranteed a volunteer during the Reaping, everyone is at home preparing for it.
Unlike almost every kid in District 2, I wouldn't volunteer. I have enough to eat and keep me alive, and I have a good enough life. Why would I risk dieing to make it better?
"Excited for the Reaping, Leila?" Remmy asks.
"Super," I reply sarcastically, taking a huge bite from an apple. He chuckles and holds out his hand. I put a coin in his hand and he thanks me. We talk for a while longer.
"I better be heading off, want to look my best if I'm going in the games," I say.
"You better," he says. We both know that if I did get picked, someone would take my place.
Though I would have a great chance of surviving since I have been trained my whole life, I wouldn't dream of actually going in. This will be my fourth reaping, since I'm only 15.
I make it to my house and walk into my room that I share with my sister. She is bouncing back and forth, getting herself ready for the Reaping. I see she has laid a dress on the bed that matches hers exactly. I roll my eyes when I see it. I don't know why she insists on us dressing the same. We're twins, isn't sharing the same face enough? We look exactly alike, same brown eyes and black hair, same facial features. We look perfectly identical in appearance, but personality is an entirely different story.
She is bubbly and outgoing. She is always hanging out with a huge group of friends and has the sort of personality that you can't help but love her. I, on the other hand, am the one who is always alone, the quiet one. I only have one friend, and that would be my sister. She tried to get me to hang out with her and her friends multiple times, but after much refusal she finally gave up.
"Get dressed silly. Its almost time!" she says as she applies her makeup. That's another thing; she always wears makeup and nice clothes. I really don't care what I look like.
"Where's dad?" I ask.
"He's going to meet us there. He had some extra work that needed to be finished," she says. This isn't unusual. Dad has an important job here in District 2. He is head of Peacekeeper training. We have pretty much raised ourselves since he is always at work. Mom died when Laney and I were only 6. There was some freak-accident in weapons training with new Peacekeeper recruits that killed her. I don't remember her much, but dad says we look exactly like her. I slip on the dress that Laney laid out. It's a soft green thing with long sleeves. The skirt falls right at my knees.
"Can I please do your hair?" she begs. I roll my eyes and sit down in front of the mirror. She claps her hands together and gets to work. I wouldn't even know where to begin doing my hair, but her nimble fingers fly through. When she's done, my hair matches hers. Braided into a bun on the back of my head.
"You look gorgeous!" she squeals.
"Thanks sis," I say. She skips happily out of the room and I follow close behind. I don't know how she could be so happy. Like me, she wouldn't dream of volunteering into the games. Besides, as much as I hate to say it, she wouldn't last in there. She is too soft. Even with our training, which she never really got into, she wouldn't last.
"Time to go!" she exclaims as she opens the door. I walk out and close the door behind me. I can see everyone making there way to the town square. Our house is close to it, so it is only about a five minute walk. Once were there, dad finds us and hugs us both.
"Good luck today," he says. We thank him and he stands awkwardly. He never was one for conversation and since he rarely saw us, he didn't know what to say to us. Finally, its time to go to our sections and he kisses the top of our heads. He takes a seat on the perimeter of the age groups and Laney and I go to the section for 15 year olds.
The mayor, our latest winner of the games, and our district escort sit on the make-shift stage in front of the Justice building. Our district escort, Ian, a tall man with neon orange hair and a sky-blue suit walks to the microphone. The sight of him draws laughter out of me every year. All of the people of the Capitol look like freaks.
"Welcome everyone! Thank you for joining us!" he says with his Capitol accent.
"Like we had a choice," I mumble quietly enough so only I could hear it.
"Please give a warm welcome to Mayor Dwight!" he says. Everyone claps as the mayor steps up to the microphone. She is a short woman with short brown hair and green eyes. She begins with telling the history of Panem, the country that rose from the ashes of a place once called North America. She lists all the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the rising sea that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal wars. The result, Panem. A shining Capitol ringed by 13 districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its people. Then came the Dark Days, the uprisings of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth completely obliterated. Then, she starts reading the Treaty of Treason, which gave us new laws and established the Hunger Games as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated.
Thanks to the people from 71 years ago, we have to send one boy and girl from each district between the ages of 12 and 18 to fight to the death on a televised event that is required viewing for every citizen. The people of the Capitol eagerly await the games and see it as a form of entertainment. Its disgusts me that they find this entertaining. I mean, how would they like it? But of course, they don't have to worry about that.
Then the Mayor lists all the past victors. Our list is long, seeing as we train for it. Technically, training is not allowed, but the capitol favors District 1, 2, and 4, so we get away with it. We're often called Career Tributes by other districts. Our latest victor, Billee Goldlow, stands when his name is called. Everyone cheers for him. He won three years ago at the age of seventeen.
"Time to select two tributes to represent District 2 in the 71st Hunger Games!" Ian practically shouts. He walks over to the girl's glass ball and swirls his hand around. He pulls out a single slip and walks back to the microphone, and you can hear a pin drop as everyone awaits the name. He opens up the slip and speaks clearly into the microphone.
"Laney Pollwood," he says.