When I wake up, it's to the sound of my brother, Courfeyrac, crying next to me. The sun has just started peaking over the horizon in District Twelve, and today is reaping day. I pull him close to me and I let him cry. There's no use in trying to stop his tears. He turned twelve three months ago, and his name is only in once. I wouldn't let him enter it in any more times.
I cried every reaping day from when I was twelve to when I was fourteen. I can't blame him for crying, the games are terrifying. I just roll on my side, let him bury his face in my chest, and let him cry. He cries for what feels like forever, but I let him. There's no way in hell that he will get chosen. Almost 3,000 kids are in the reaping today and almost every kid is entered at least three times, depending on how much their family needs. I refused to let Courf put his name in more than once. We didn't need that much oil and grain since it's just the two of us.
My brother looks nothing like me. His eyes are a soft grey and his hair is dark and curly. His skin is slightly paled but coal dust settles on his arms. Coal dust settles on everything in District Twelve. I look much different, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. I'm an outcast here, almost. There is very few that look like me. I look like my mother, and Courf, he looks like our father. Both are gone.
My mother and father were both healers, but after that started to not pay enough to feed us, my father went into the mines where he died. I won't forget that day. We were all in school when they got word that a mine had collapsed, and we were all sent home. They didn't know who was in the mine, but after three days with no sign of my father, they told us it was more than likely that he was killed. They gave us a small amount of money, but it wasn't even two of his paychecks. My mother never recovered.
Just like my mother, Courf has gentle hands. He knows how to handle medicine and how to treat people. My mother taught him a lot before she passed, and even though he's only so young, he's the best healer this District has ever seen. Sometimes when he doesn't know I'm back home, he sings. His voice is calm and soft, and I wish he would sing more. He sounds like my mother when she would sing. Sometimes I have to leave when he sings, because all I can think of is her.
Its around nine when he stops crying, and that's when I get up to leave. I tuck him back in and I tell him to get more sleep, and he only nods. I kiss his forehead and he rolls over, falling back asleep. I pile as many blankets as I can on him, because even though by mid-day it'll be excruciatingly hot out, it's still very cold in the mornings.
I put my hair up in an old torn piece of black fabric, tying a knot to keep my hair up and looped around itself. I take off my thick night clothes and put on my hunting clothes; thick boots that once belonged to my father when he was my age, pants, a black shirt and my old light brown jacket with a copper mockingjay pin hooked on at the top, just below my left shoulder on one of the collar folds. This jacket was something that my mother had from her brother who died in the games. She never talked a lot about him, but when she did, she said he fought his best. He made it to the final five and then he was killed by a beast. Every time she spoke of it, she would have to go outside and sit by herself for a while. She kept his jacket and when I got older, she gave it to me.
The pin came from Courf. Last year he got himself a small job, just to keep himself busy on the off school months. He helped Mrs. Daniels wash clothes from people of the district, and she would pay him a bit for it. When he first started saving his money, I took him to the hob with me, and there he wandered off. When I found him, he had bought the pin for a coin. He told me it was for me, and before I could protest or say something about him wasting his money on non-food items, he had it pinned to my jacket. He looked so proud that he was able to buy something for me that I didn't question it.
When I make my way out of the house, I head to the woods with my game bag. District Twelve never has electricity, so the barbed wire fence that stands around twenty feet high is safe to go under. There's a few holes in the fence where you can crawl through, and I do. I go and retrieve my bow and arrows from a hollow log. They were my fathers. He used to come out and hunt for extra game to eat and he taught me the basics.
The air is crisp and cold and the sun has risen a bit higher now. I manage to get four squirrels before I hear a crunch of leaves behind me. I swing around, bow and arrow raised, only to see one of my closest friends- Feuilly.
"You scared the hell out of me!" I hiss, and he laughs, smiling. I can't help but smile too.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I promise." He walks up to me and I see his game bag is already full of what I guess is berries and nuts since he has two squirrels held by the tail in his hand. That's how our system works- My bag holds the meat and his holds the fruits and then we go back to my house and split our success, and then we go to the hob. That's how it's always been.
Feuilly is beautiful. His dark hair and strong build is enough to have every girl in District Twelve swooning over him. It's enough to have me swooning over him. He's eighteen, older than me by two years, so today's reaping will be his last. This year they decided to switch it up with the tributes; Instead of having one girl and one boy, they go every other district and ask for only two of each gender. But both genders still have to attend the reaping.
Districts one, three, five, seven, nine, and eleven have to offer up two girls each and no boys, while Districts two, four, six, eight, ten, and twelve have to offer up two boys each and no girls. So the odds for both of us getting in are higher than normal.
We are able to get two more squirrels before Feuilly asks, "How is Courf?"
"Same as us when we were twelve. He cried for about an hour this morning, and when I left he seemed okay. I made sure there was still some strawberries in the kitchen last night so he had something to eat in case he gets up before we get back."
Feuilly nods, sympathetic, and I ask, "How's your family doing?"
"They are okay, the only one of us left besides me that are still in the reaping is Laura, but of course we don't have to offer girls this year, so she's okay." Feuilly is the second youngest of five kids, all of which are all grown and past the reapings. His oldest sister died in the games long before he was even conceived. She would've been thirty now, but she was sent in when she was fifteen and she didn't make it back out.
There's a few more minutes of walking before he says, "You know, we could run away. Take Courf and Laura with us."
It catches me off guard, and I reply, "And what? Leave the rest of your family to die?" I know it's harsh, but it's true. If he left, his family would starve. "It's an ideal idea, to run, to get away, but Feuilly, who is going to want to spend the winter in the forest? Where would we go?"
"We could survive in the woods." He snaps, and I don't turn to look at him. I know I've upset him. "We could make it."
"No, we couldn't. Not right now." I almost yell, and all I want to do is scream at the top of my lungs, but I don't. It'll scare away all of the prey. "Maybe after the games, but someone will notice us missing. If the Capitol finds us-" I cut myself off, my words catching in my own throat. I've heard stories of what the Capitol has done to people who try to run away, and I don't want to become another story.
Feuilly seems to understand my worry, because then his hand is on my forearm and he's standing close to me again. "I'm sorry," He says softly and I apologize back. There's no point in fighting today. He hugs me and when I hug him back, I close my eyes and bury my face in his shoulder.
After that, small talk seems futile, but we do it anyways, talking about our families and the people in district twelve, and by the time we get back we have a good pound and a half of all different berries and ten squirrels. We split the food right outside the fence and we both go our separate ways, but not without a "good luck" from Feuilly that makes my chest tighten.
When I get back, Courf is just waking up and I cook us both a squirrel. I let Courf get dressed before I take him down to the Hob. We don't spend too long there, just long enough to trade the three squirrels and half a pound of berries for a fairly large bowl of soup, two loaves of bread, and I let Courf get a few pieces of candy.
As we make our walk back home, I see that no one else is walking the streets. All the miners have the day off, and all the legal shops are closed, so you might as well get some good sleep before the reaping.
The rest of the time until the reaping is spent getting ready. I play cards with Courf until the water is done boiling for the bath, and we both scrub the dirt from ourselves until our skin is red and raw. I try to comb Courf's hair but it ends up being more work than it's worth, so I let him keep his matted curls. I comb through mine and I tie it up, nicer this time, and tuck the stray hairs behind my ears. I put on my reaping day clothes- a light blue button up shirt and tanned pants, along with black shoes. Courf wears the same, but his middle button on the shirt is worn out and keeps coming undone. I tuck his shirt in tighter and it seems to hold, and after seeing how scared he is, I have an idea.
I take the gold mockingjay pin off of my hunting jacket and I pin it to his shirt. "Here," I say, as I fasten it on. "While you have this on, nothing can hurt you. I won't let anything hurt you."
Courf stays very strong until it comes to the time where we have to be separated. He sustains the blood taking, but once he realizes he'll be alone, he starts panicking.
"Courf, listen to me." I say as I kneel down and cup both sides of his face. His eyes are wild and his hands grab onto my forearms. "It's going to be okay- just stand up there and be silent and then we can go home and play cards. It's going to be okay." He nods, and I see the tears forming in his eyes. "Courf, it's going to be alright." I say as peacekeepers start pushing us away and into our sections. I watch as he stands next to his classmates, and I assure myself that he will be okay.
Its another few minutes before they start, and its blazing hot outside by the time they finish the introduction and the story of Panem. Effie Trinket, a woman who seems to be in her mid-thirties steps up to the glass bowl holding the slips of paper holding all the boys' names. Her hair is large and bright orange, her tight blazer and pencil skirt the same color, and her makeup is brighter than the sun shining down on us all.
Her capitol accent rings out; "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor." And I scoff. I glance behind me at Feuilly and he rolls his eyes, and I crack a small smile. When I turn, she already has her hand deep in the bowl and is swishing around the papers. She pulls one out, and it becomes so silent you can hear the hearts beating through people's chests.
She opens it up daintily with her long, pristinely painted fingernails before she reads out the name, and it catches my attention immediately. I hear adults murmur sadly as the name is said.
My blood runs cold as I hear by brothers name ring out from her lips.