Welcome to Defying the Odds!
My name is Sandy if you couldn't tell...yes just like the hurricane...I won't destroy your houses though I promise!
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"The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our separate ways, I to die, and you to live. Which of these two is better only God knows."
- Socrates
Priya Carmichael POV District 4 Female
I sit by my father's large fishing boat and take a deep breath savoring the familiar salty air. I love the ocean, everything about it, even the occasional rotten smell of dead fish. Well okay I don't love that exactly I'll admit.
I look around at my view of the docks, one of my favorite places in district 4. The day is lovely with a vibrant sapphire sky and perfect random patches of clouds that hold a faint golden glow. So many boats of different sizes and shapes rest among the dozens of long wooden docks; most are used for fishing in some way. Some of them are abandoned at the moment, and some are really busy as fishermen crowd around unloading their catches. Plenty of people walk by me without a second glance; stray fishermen, dock hands and higher ranking officials.
I practically grew up on a boat because my father is one of the major fishing captains in district 4. He is in charge of the deep sea fishing exhibitions and making sure all the crew gets home safely. It is a big job and he is one of the most respected in the fishing industry here for being kind and hardworking yet not tolerating any of his men acting stupid, rash or slacking off. As you might imagine he is often gone on these trips for days and weeks at a time. I hate when he is as we are really close and I miss him dearly. I always worry that something bad will happen to him out at sea and I will never see him again. It happens all too often here in 4.
That is the only thing I don't like about the sea, that it can be dangerous and claim lives.
I look further down to the beach past the docks, where many kids and families are relaxing and swimming in the summer sun. Everyone is just going about their normal day, as if they haven't a care in the world. But I know better. If only things were really that simple. I can hear the sounds from the main street market of district 4 that is close by, only a couple blocks away from the docks. It is no doubt unusually busy today as tomorrow it will be closed all day.
"ARRG"
"Bring it here!"
"Careful now, carefully!"
"Watch your step, Ryans!"
I look at the sudden commotion and see several fisherman only a couple boats down bringing in a huge shark still caught in a net. I can tell right away it is a great white shark and is still alive. We don't catch that many sharks and when we do there is always a huge crowd at the market waiting for it's meat. No doubt they are hurrying to get it ready to sell today or else they will have to wait two days and by then it won't be fresh, which brings the price down. I stand up to get a better look and watch from the outskirts as they rip it open right on the dock. The horrible smell is overwhelming at first and the sight of it's bright red mulchy innards splashing on the dock makes me sort of queasy. None the less you get used to seeing this sort of thing when you hang out at the docks as much as I do.
You see when I was little my dad would take me out on the sea all the time and being quite the little monkey when I was a kid I climbed all over the boat. When I got older he started letting me help with the boats, climbing masts and fixing the sails and whatnot. This became more than a hobby for me and eventually it became more like an after school job helping at the docks every day. I am lean and agile and can climb easily, something the fishermen have trouble with so I help them with repairing boats. It works out well as I am more at home working with the fisherman and listening to tales from their many voyages than I am hanging with my peers. I also learn responsibility and all that and even make a little of my own money. Not that I need to as my father's high position ensures we have a comfortable life.
Don't get me wrong we are not super rich like the mayor or anything like that, but we never have to worry about food or not having necessities.
I can see one of the young fishermen I know watching me so I call, "That's quite a catch Matt, I don't think we have had a Great White for at least a month!"
He smiles, "I know girl! Did ya see the thing try to take a bite out of me just now? Almost tore my damn arm off!"
I laugh as I notice a couple others spotting me and some looking annoyed. Some of these men don't appreciate a teenage girl helping and hanging around the dock, and see me as a silly nuisance interfering with "men's work". I just ignore them though and talk to the plenty that do like me, like Matt. He is about 20 and is one of the guys my father helped out. Several months ago there was this huge hurricane and one of the ships was lost at sea before they could make it back. It was one of the worst disasters we have had in my lifetime. Anyway Matt's father and brother were killed leaving Matt as the sole caretaker of his two younger sisters so my dad invited them over for dinner and offered him a job and gave them a bunch of food to take home. Since then we are always friendly and chat if we see each other around.
"Well be more careful then" I say smirking slightly in a teasing manner.
"Come on enough talking to the ladies," snaps another of the fishermen, named Jack, spitting out the word ladies. Remember when I said some of them don't appreciate me? Well he is one of those types. I scowl at him. As if we were actually flirting or anything.
"Why don't you go home little girl, wouldn't want you to get hurt around here" he says as if I was a little child.
"I have every right to be here you know" I tell him firmly, "I am not doing anything wrong, just making conversation. And I can handle being on a dock without doing something stupid just because I am a girl." One thing you learn quickly at the docks is that fishermen are not subtle people, they are often crude, brash and vulgar so you need to be able to handle yourself. Which I can. Most girls can't but I know that once you get through the rough exterior many of them are decent people with fascinating tales and experiences they are happy to share.
I should actually be going home as my father should be coming back from a fishing trip in about an hour so I say goodbye to Matt and a couple other guys I know. Our house is not too far from the docks so it doesn't take me long to get home. When I walk in I see my mother making a cheese and potato casserole for dinner, one of my father's favorite meals. It smells so delicious it makes my mouth water.
"Hey sweetie, how was your day" she calls.
"It was fine as always" I call back rolling my eyes as she always asks that and I always respond the same. It is almost like a running script between us.
I go upstairs to my bedroom and find my little 6 year old sister Sky bouncing on my bed.
"What are you doing Sky?" I chide her.
"Waiting for you! Daddy comes back today you know!" she shouts excitedly jumping up and down.
"Yes I know that, now stop jumping" I say as I grab her before she bounces off.
"Okay see ya" she shrieks as she runs out. Rolling my eyes again I close my door to avoid any further interruption by the lovingly insufferable 6 year old.
Later I go downstairs as my father walks in.
"Hey daddy!" Sky shouts running to him. I am not far behind and we both give him a big hug.
"Aww I missed you all so much, I am so glad to be back and have you lovely girls for company rather than a bunch of smelly fishy men" he says laughing. He kisses my mom and we all eat dinner, glad to be back together. Soon my thoughts turn to the reaping tomorrow. Oh yeah the reaping…
You see our government happens to think that brutally murdering our countries children is necessary in order to keep the country from falling apart. Or something like that. The point is we have the hunger games, so at the reaping they choose the poor kids who have to fight to the death on live TV. Yeah it sounds like fun right?
Well you could fool most of the kids in the district as we are considered a career district which means many kids train their whole lives in hopes of volunteering for it one day. That's right I know, people actually volunteer to go to this thing! I can hardly believe it either. Anyway I try to not think about the games, which is hard to do the night before I could be called to my death. Unlike most of my oh so lovely peers I have not stepped foot in the training center. My parents despise the games and don't want me anywhere near it. I don't understand how any parent could.
I fall into an uneasy sleep filled with dreams of 12 year olds having their heads cut off.
That was a common sight in the last games, where two-count them two! little 12 year olds were gruesomely beheaded.
What the fuck is wrong with this country?
When I wake up it is 6 in the morning. I get ready for a morning workout. I find running on the beach to be relaxing and peaceful, especially on reaping day.
I change into a sleek black 1 piece bathing suit, running shorts and a loose white t shirt. I study my reflection in the mirror of the bathroom as I pull my long dark chocolate brown locks in a ponytail. I have a thin pretty face, nicely tanned skin, dark-almost black-eyes and a lean athletic figure from running and swimming every day. I silently creep out the backdoor and take off into a fast run.
I love running; I am fast and have great endurance. It is still dark out but the sun is starting to creep over the horizon. There is nobody out this early, which makes the early morning my favorite time of day. There is nobody to get in my way and it feels like the world is all for me waiting to be discovered. I near the beach and my feet start hitting the sand. It takes a few minutes of hard effort trudging through the thick sand before I get to the wetter compact sand at the shore. I start running to the left along the ocean, basking in this surreal magical atmosphere around me.
I run for about 30 minutes, watching the sun slowly rise as I do. I get to my usual resting place, a series of rural caves and rocks in a discreet area of the coast. You see fisherman like to tell stories and legends and this part of the coast is supposed to be haunted or cursed or whatever. Now don't get me wrong I love to listen to their tales and stories but I know when to not believe in them. I am not that gullible after all.
Basically it just means I have it all to myself, which is how I prefer it. I sit against the rocks letting my breathing normalize for a few minutes. Then I take my shoes, shorts and shirt off and dive in the ocean. The water is very cold, too cold for most people to enjoy. I am not most people however and find it exhilarating and refreshing. I relax and just float around for a while trying to enjoy what could be my last time in the ocean.
I get out and sit on the rocks drying off for a bit before finding my secret stash of knives that I have hidden here. I practice throwing them as I have for years. I am quite an expert at it by now. Now I know what you are thinking, I said I did not train right so why am I practicing throwing knives?
Well my parents say that any parent who does not teach their child something to survive in the games is neglectful. Not that they know of my stash of knives, but they know I know how to throw them. Long story short I am prepared if god forbid I have to go to the games. I will not be thrown in like a sitting duck with no way of defending myself. I don't get why more districts don't do more to prepare. I mean I know the games are awful and they prefer to ignore the possibility hoping it doesn't happen to them but come on the games will not be ending anytime soon so they should make sure their kids have a fighting chance at least.
I put my knives back and put my shorts on. I run barefoot on the beach carrying my shirt and shoes. It is getting to be late morning by now so I cut across the fish market to my house to get back in time for breakfast. I open the door and put my shoes away. My family is in the kitchen, my mother making breakfast, my father reading the paper drinking coffee and Sky coloring on a piece of paper on the floor.
"Where have you been" asks my father looking at me wearing only my bathing suit and shorts.
"The beach" I tell him.
"Well you're just in time for breakfast" my mother says, "so put your shirt on."
I do and sit down as she serves pancakes, fresh fruit and toast. We usually only have pancakes on reaping day.
"Are you nervous" my father asks and my stomach lurches.
"No, some career will volunteer anyway if I am called" I assure him. This rationalization does not stop any of us from worrying though.
After we finish eating my father says, "Hey Pri better hurry up and get ready".
So I go upstairs and shower, as I am sticky and sweaty from my workout. I decide on a strapless light blue dress that falls just above my knees and flip flops. The dress is not tight or "sexy" but light, comfy and beachy. That pretty much describes my whole wardrobe; comfy, beachy and athletic. Sky comes in singing "priya priya you look so pretty" as she sees me and dances around the room. I look at her, with her pale skin, dark curls and huge brown eyes. She is adorable and as my only sibling I love her more than anything despite how annoying she can be at times.
"Look what I made!" she says shoving a piece of paper at me. I take it and see she drew a picture of us together.
"It's for the reaping!" she exclaims proudly.
"Aww that's really good Sky," I tell her forcing a smile at her. She is much too young to be aware of the true horror of the day and enjoys all of the attention and hoopla it brings. I comb through my dark wet tangles and we head downstairs.
My mom gives me a long hug as she does before we leave for every reaping.
"What happens if you go?" asks Sky as we head down the road.
"Well I would have to go to the capital and be a tribute in the Hunger Games" I answer her.
"Where all the kids try and kill each other?" she gasps loudly in alarm. She must remember flashes from the games last year. I can see some other people staring at us.
"Shush both of you, now is not the time" my father says sternly.
When we reach the town square where the reaping is held I say good bye to my family and get in line with the rest of the eligible kids to sign in. After I get my finger pricked I stand in line with the rest of the 16 year old girls. Standing on the stage is our escort from the capital, a ridiculous woman named Sashira. She wears a ridiculous aqua pant suit and has long died dark blue hair with several seagull feathers in it. She has an assortment of tattoos that seem to be ocean themed.
"Welcome district 4 to the annual reaping ceremony!" she shouts gleefully as if it was a celebration instead of a ceremony choosing two kids to die. After they play the annual video that reminds us exactly why the districts deserve to have 24 of their kids murdered each year, she moves to pick the girls name.
Please don't be me...please don't be me...
"Our female tribute is …..Priya Carmichael!" she says beaming.
My heart seems to drop to the floor and I can't breathe or move. It's me. I am going to die.
Then I remember that it's okay because someone will volunteer. No one does yet which is odd.
I can feel everyone staring at me and my face seems to burn.
Then I see peacekeepers starting to walk towards me. I have seen many kids dragged kicking and screaming by the peacekeepers at the reapings over the years.
I knew I could never act so pitiful. Those kids lost their lives right there.
I quickly lift my head up and calmly walk to the stage. I snub and dodge the peacekeepers, rushing in front of them before they can grab or drag me. I can walk by myself thanks.
"Great" Sashira says smiling as she studies me. I hate the way is studying me, seeing how good of a murderer I will be. I probably look like I have trained for the games with my lean body; and I guess I have-but not to kill, only to protect and defend myself. She is way too happy to be sending me to my death; it makes me sick and I glare at her. I smirk slightly as her smile falters and she faces the crowd again.
"Any volunteers?" she asks. Please come on, someone volunteer. No one does. Fan-fucking-tastic.
"Okay then on to the boys!"
I stare at the ocean and sky longingly one last time with anger and defiance, wishing I could just float away from here. I force myself to look in my parent's direction now and then wish I hadn't. My mother and Sky are in tears and my father looks like he wants to murder Sashira. Fine by me. He catches my eye and looks so sad I have to look away before I start crying.
"Cam Sheenan!" she shouts as if announcing a prize instead of the name of a child sentenced to death.
I see him; a 16 year old with messy black hair slowly makes his way to the stage.
"Any volunteers?"
Again no one does
We shake hands. I catch his eye and we exchange a glance that says what the fuck did we do to deserve this?
What is going on, why does suddenly no one want to volunteer? That was what I had counted on!
Maybe it is because of what happened last year to our tributes. The boy was brutally tortured and eventually disemboweled and decapitated by the boy from district one, and the girl – well I don't really want to think about that again.