It's very early in the morning. I am sitting, in my pajamas, on the beach. I woke up from a nightmare several hours ago and couldn't get back to sleep. This is where I come to think. My hands are busy weaving a rope bracelet; I can still see a few stars in the sky as the magenta fades to blue. There are very little clouds and there is a light breeze. The waves crash gently to the shore, then pull back again; it's as if the sea and the shore are playing tug-of-war. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
What a beautiful day.
If only it weren't Reaping Day, my thoughts interrupt.
As I finish the last knot on the bracelet, I stand up and brush my pants off. I trudge through the soggy sand to my family's home in Victor's Village; the cul-de-sac is situated right next to the shore.
What more could you ask for?
I'm careful not to make too much noise; my parents and older brother are still asleep. I slowly creep up the stairs, careful to avoid the second to last step that always squeaks horrendously when stepped on, and turn into my bedroom. I head straight for my closet and push all of my clothes out of the way. In the back hangs the simple snow-white cotton dress that I'd been saving for this very day. I pull it off of the hanger and head into the bathroom to take a shower.
(Time lapse)
"Come on, Mara! We're going to be late!" calls my mother from downstairs. I had dozed off after my shower, wanting to catch some shut-eye before we were all required to gather at the Justice Building for the reaping. My mother's voice makes me bolt up, and I manage to reply in a croaky, sleep-filled voice, "Be right there!"
I climb off of my bed then look at my reflection in the mirror. I frown and flatten my mangled blonde mane, sweeping my bangs to the side. Once I'm satisfied, I grab the bracelet I finished earlier and shove it into the little pocket at the bottom of my dress and bound downstairs, greeting my family warmly. They're waiting for me, wearing their nicest clothes, as is customary for this grim occasion.
"Morning, mom, dad, Max,""I nod at my brother, flashing him a big smile. He is twenty-two years old, but he looks much older. He won the hunger games four years ago, only a year after we lost my sister, Amy. She had been murdered by the relentless psychopathic boy from district two who won that year. Max looks exhausted, and concern riddles his face. I know he's had terrible nightmares every night since he got out of the arena; he hasn't been the same. He's become quiet and reserved, only confiding in me; we have grown very close over the past several years. I know he's worried I'll be picked, especially since the Capitol loves torturing past victors.
I would be lying if I said I wasn't thinking the same thing.
"Ready to go?" my father asks, giving me a one-armed hug and a kiss on the top of my head.
"I'm ready,"" I say, trying my best to sound brave while my heart pounds in my chest. I know I have to go, but I don't want to. I don't have a good feeling about today. But I tell myself to relax and I remind myself that after this year, I am only in the running for one more. Then we can all relax.
(Time lapse)
When we reach the Justice Building, I give my mother a tight hug.
"It'll be alright, mom. I'll see you in a little bit, okay?"
I can tell she is crying; her diaphragm is spasming against me. I don't blame her. She doesn't want to lose the only other daughter she has left. She shakes a little bit and holds me even tighter. The peacekeepers are staring, as if to tell me to get a move-on.
"Okay, mom. I have to go now. I love you."
She releases me and briskly wipes away her tears, before saying "I love you, too." My dad puts his arm around her and brushes my bangs out of my eyes.
"See you in a bit, kiddo."" He smiles reassuringly and rests his hand on my cheek for a brief moment. I close my eyes for a little longer than a blink, trying to commit his touch to memory, before turning to Max. He's trying his damndest to smile, but all he can manage is a half-smirk that almost makes him look sick.
I wave goodbye and walk over to the table where peacekeepers are seated. They prick my index finger and blotch it on a piece of paper, which tells them my name along with a plethora of other information. I am then sent across the courtyard where I stand with a bunch of kids from my grade. My best friend, Jenny, walks up to me and gives me a hug.
"Hey, Jenny!" I smile at her. "I made you this."
I pull the bracelet out of my pocket and hand it to her. She grins and puts it on, then hugs me again. "Thanks, Mara! So are you nervous?"
I think for a moment. "Nah, not really," I respond, grinning. "Are you?"
Before she can answer, there is microphone feedback and we are told to be quiet as someone, whose name I miss among the commotion, is introduced. The crowd applauds as an eccentric-looking woman walks on stage. Her hair is cotton-candy pink, her face looks like her makeup bag threw up on her, and the heels on her feet must be at least six inches tall.
There is no doubt in my mind that she is from the Capitol.
After the usual presentation explaining what the hunger games are, she gets right down to business, and is presented with a fish bowl filled with small pieces of paper. They obviously do not want to waste any time. The crowd falls deathly silent and my heart begins to pound again. I grab Jenny's hand and she squeezes mine. I begin to shake like a leaf as the Capitol representative reaches into the bowl. She swirls her hand around inside, grinning at the audience, evidently enjoying herself. After a while, she snatches up a piece of paper. Everyone around me takes a collective breath and she unfolds it tantalizingly slowly.
Even the birds seem to stop and listen.
Then she calls my name.
"Mara Hastings."
As everyone around me exhales dramatically, I hear a ringing in my ears and my legs turn to jelly; I can't move. Everyone is looking at me now, and they part away to create a pathway to the stage. My mouth has gone dry and I think my heart has stopped. No wait. I can feel it in my throat.
"Come on up, dear. Don't be shy,"" says the woman into the microphone.
I feel Jenny move away from me after giving my hand another squeeze. I loosen my grip and she slips away. Peacekeepers are coming up from behind me. Two of them, both males, push me forward and I regain use of my limbs. I slowly shuffle to the stage, my legs still threatening to give way beneath me. I continue to be guided forward until I reach the stage. I climb the stairs and stand next to the announcer; everything else is a blur.
(Time lapse)
I am seated on a plush, leather couch, my hands folded in my lap. My breathing is shallow and I am in a daze. I hear familiar voices outside, followed by one I don't recognize.
"You have three minutes."
I look around as the tall, double oak doors open and my family and Jenny all step inside. I stand up, but make no move toward them.
"Mara!"" my mother yells, running over to me. She flings herself around me so tight I feel as if I am going to suffocate. But still, I don't move. She just holds me as she weeps into my hair. "Not my baby!" she cries. I just stand there, my arms at my side. My eyes grow wet as hot tears pool and spill over onto my face, streaming down my cheek. I am still trying to process what has happened.
My father pries my mother away after a minute or so and he sits her on the sofa. She is still weeping, her head in her hands. I wish she would stop crying…my tears don't stop flowing as Jenny hugs me next.
"I'm so sorry," she whispers into my ear.
I finally snap out of my trance and hug her back. She steps away and Max looks at me, his eyes also damp. He tries to smile, but his lips only twitch and he falters; it breaks my heart.
"I love you, Mara," he mumbles, pulling me to his chest. I begin to heave and before I know it, I am sobbing uncontrollably. He holds me for a few moments until I pull away and turn to my father, wiping my eyes. But it's no use; the tears keep flowing.
His face is grave, but he digs in his pocket and pulls out a silver chain with a brilliant aquamarine stone hanging from it; he fastens it around my neck.
I know what this is.
This necklace has been passed down for generations to the eldest daughter. But since the eldest in the family is dead, it goes to me. It took a while, but we were able to get it back after Amy had died in the arena.
"Thank you, daddy," I choke as he beckons me into his arms.
"I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you...too," I manage a reply around the lump in my throat.
"Try to win."
"I will, daddy."
As I step back, Max says, "I'll be your mentor. So I will do everything in my power to help you."
"I know you will."
Before long, the man outside steps into the room and tells everyone that they need to leave; I don't want them to go. My mom hugs me one last time, still crying but no longer sobbing.
"I'll be okay, guys," I reassure them, wiping away my tears and smiling. "I'll be back before you know it."
But not even I believe that.