Hello, readers! I've decided to take on a Hunger Games story. This won't be like most. I don't accept tributes or sponsors, but I will respond to your reviews. If you like a character, I may keep them around longer. And I may periodically ask your opinions on things. But first, enjoy the first chapter of Four Anthems!
Archer Barkley, District 7
This was not how Archer had pictured his day going. In his mind, he would have awoken to a bright sun, survived this year's reaping unscathed, wind away hours with Cara, and then enjoyed the feast under a sky speckled with stars.
The universe, apparently, had other plans.
Archer was shaken awake early in the morning from the sound of thunder directly overhead. Peering out the window, his mood plunged as he saw rain slamming against the pane. He knew sleep was useless now. He dragged himself out of bed and ruffled his short brown hair, but it still looked unkempt. He slid on the shirt hanging off his bed post over his tall frame, then slipped downstairs.
The Barkley household was the same as most in the forests of District 7. It was a cottage, small but not uncomfortable, with intricate woodwork covering almost every surface. The people of District 7 knew wood better than any other, considering they produced the lumber and paper for the whole of Panem. They were not the most sociable people, so they set their houses apart from each other, burying themselves amidst the trees.
Archer sat down to the family table across from his mother, Grace. She had already set out his breakfast, and watched him with sad eyes while he ate until he took notice.
"Mom, you can stop looking at me like that," Archer mumbled through his oatmeal. "I'm not getting reaped today. My name's only in there once, remember?"
"Of course you're not getting reaped," Grace replied, her eyes hardening. "Now hurry and eat. Your father will be back in an hour, and we're all walking to the ceremony together." She stood, rinsed her bowl in the basin, and strode out of the room. But Archer caught her lingering stare right before she left.
The source of the stare found its roots six years before. Archer's brother, Carson, had been reaped in the 15th Hunger Games. It had been a harder time, and Carson had to put his name in several times in order to receive tesserae and support the Barkleys. When his name was drawn, Carson Barkley walked proudly up to the stage and faced his fate. But in Victor's Village, there is a house that still stands empty.
Carson hadn't been unprepared. He could handle a bow as well as anyone, and was smarter than most. But he had put his trust in someone he shouldn't have, and had been stabbed in the back, quite literally. Archer and his parents had watched in horror as their oldest son became another victim of the Games. And now, six years later, Grace Barkley was facing the possibility of losing her only living son, and it was weighing on her.
An hour later, Archer was fed, washed, and standing handsomely clothed in front of his house. The rain had died, and he was kicking a wet stone back and forth when his father, Dawson, appeared on the path that led between the trees. He tossed Archer a quick hello, then entered the house. He reappeared a few minutes later with Grace on his arm, and together they walked towards the plaza.
Carson's death had affected Dawson in a completely different way. Where Grace became more protective of Archer, Dawson became closed off. He had always favored his first born, and no longer wanted anything to do with his second. Archer was well aware of it, and his resentment had bubbled inside for years.
They arrived at the plaza, a huge open area with an ancient tree growing in the center. On the far side, the Justice Building rose behind a flat, wooden stage. On the stage sat two bowls, each filled with the names of boys and girls from District 7. Archer trotted away from his parents and found the group of sixteens standing near the edge of the stage. He silently slipped his fingers between Cara's, and she smiled at him.
Cara Justine, the only thing that had lit the darkness since Carson's death.
Archer and Cara had met years before, when they first began school together. Cara understood Archer; she had lost her sister to the law-enforcing Peacekeepers years ago, and she had been the only one who could comfort him when Carson died. Soon, their friendship had developed into something more, and now she meant the world to Archer. He clasped her hand tighter, as if to protect her from the reaping.
Soon, the mayor gave his speech, a boring ramble everyone in the district had heard for years. Then, it was over, and tension settled on the crowd. A young woman in a smart suit walked out on stage. She was from the Capitol, the elite city of Panem. Her hair fell in perfect blonde waves as she reached into one of the bowls.
"We'll begin with girls. Ladies first, right?" the woman chuckled, and unfurled a slip of paper from the bowl. "Oh, this is just so exciting!" Her enthusiasm made Archer want to vomit. She reeked of the Capitol, considering the Hunger Games exactly that, simply a game. But to the starving people of the districts, it was a punishment, a death trap. And it was about to claim its next victim.
"The District Seven female tribute is… Channing Clover!"
There was an audible sob as a small, fourteen-year-old girl wrenched free of her mother and strode up on stage. She had short, brown hair, and although she was visibly shaking, her expression was stubborn. Archer released his grip on Cara, knowing she was safe for another year.
The blonde Capitol woman smiled at Channing, then crossed to the other bowl. After fishing around for a moment, supposedly building suspense, she drew a name.
"And our District Seven male tribute is…" The woman paused, smirking at the crowd. Archer remembered the pause. The host had done the same thing, right before announcing his brother's name. He remembered every syllable her mouth had made, especially pursing her lips on the "b" in Barkley. The memory was so vivid that he almost pictured the blonde woman up on stage pronouncing the same thing, then and there.
Wait a minute.
Penny Watt, District 3
Penny hated her house. She hated how large it was, how it was secluded from all the others in District 3. She hated the perfectly groomed rosebushes out front, she hated the constantly polished floors, and she hated the pictures that covered every wall. All of her. But what she hated the most about the house were the people in it.
The Watts were one of the wealthiest families in District 3. Tallon Watt, her father, led a research company and owned many of the research facilities in the area, pumping out tons of electronics to the Capitol. Panem relied heavily on the Watts, and in return, they received special privileges. For example, no one in the family had ever had to put their name in the reaping.
It was on the day of the 21st reaping ceremony that Penny Watt's hatred hit a boiling point.
She glided into large dining room, her brown hair in curls, and took her seat at the middle of the table. Neither her mother, Sarah, nor her father said a word as she entered, and Penny picked at her scrambled eggs and bacon in silence. Her blue eyes focused on her plate, and her cherry lips were pursed in annoyance. Finally, her mother spoke.
"Penny," she said slowly, staring Penny down with her ice blue eyes. "We have something to tell you. It's about Vince."
Penny's nostrils flared. Vince was fifteen, the same age as her, and came from a family of equal wealth. He was insufferable, flaunting his money and wooing girls with a flash of his smile. He and Penny had been forced together since they were children, and Penny couldn't stand the boy.
"You are to marry him."
Penny's fork clattered to the floor, and she stared in disbelief at her mother. Her mother stared back, unblinking. She looked to her father, who was invested in the Capitol newspaper. "You cannot be serious."
"We are, indeed. The date is set a month from today," Tallon said flatly, never taking his eyes away from the article he was reading. Penny wanted to rip it out of his hands and force him to look at her.
"What possible reason would I have for marrying that brat?" Penny asked, her eyes as wide as the dinner plate she was eating off of.
"His father, as you know, owns multiple manufacturing plants across the district, and we need his assistance for a new project, but don't have the funds. So this was the alternative." Tallon spoke to Penny as if she were a toddler that needed every detail explained. But Penny understood perfectly.
"I'm a business deal." Her anger was brewing up inside her, and she gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.
Sarah spoke next. "Hardly, darling. It works for everyone. Vince is a fine boy, and it saves you the trouble of finding a husband on your own." She smiled, and her face resembled a snake's.
"Vince is unbearable!" Penny exclaimed, her voice approaching a dangerous volume. "He treats girls like toys, and doesn't care about anything but money, and thinks he's a god, and…"
"You will marry him, Penny," Tallon said, his voice tensing.
"And if I refuse?" Penny said, standing.
Tallon finally flung down his newspaper. "Then you will lose your inheritance and face the world alone. Understand this, Penny. You are nothing without this family's bank account." He stared her back into her seat, and back into silence.
The Watts finished breakfast, freshened themselves, and piled in the family car. The sleek, black vehicle exited their huge estate, and arrived at the District plaza ten minutes later. The whole ride, Penny fumed. How could they do this to her? How could they force her to marry that boy! All her life, Penny had done what was expected of her. But this was just too far. Then again, what could she do? She was powerless, a slave to her family's wealth and reputation.
District Three's plaza was unlike the others. Instead of raucous fans or downtrodden townspeople, it was filled with polite nobles and well-behaved workers. Everyone knew their place in District Three. And that included Penny.
The Watts took their seats very near the stage. They had priority seating, of course. Penny glanced around as they sat, and spotted Vince a few rows over. He winked at her and pointed to his ring finger. Penny wanted to tell him where he could stick his ring finger, but collected herself and faced the stage.
The mayor gave his speech quickly, knowing no one was listening anyway. Then a tall man in a crimson suit arrived on stage and began to select the tributes. Penny tried to pay attention, but it was useless. Her mind was drifting forward a month, when she would wed. She caught the girl's name, Rachel something-or-other, but missed the boy's completely. She was too busy envying the girl. It had struck Penny that this small girl was getting out, escaping this district. She had the chance to make her own fortune, or die trying. Either way, she never had to return. Her future was entirely up to the decisions she made in the arena. She could decide.
It was then that Penny quietly slid her heels off silently beneath her chair.
The man in the crimson suit turned to the crowd once more. "Will there be any volunteers to take these tributes' places?" He had expected silence, since in District Three it was simply a formality. Three didn't contain many Careers, those who trained for the Games. He had expected to exit the stage, and go back to his cushy room in the Justice Building. What he didn't expect was for a thin girl with curly brown hair and porcelain skin to come charging up on stage without shoes on.
Penny hugged the girl named Rachel, and sent her down the stairs, off the stage, completely dumbfounded. There was total silence from the entire plaza. This never happened in District Three. Ever. "Um, what's your, uh…" the man in the crimson suit said, struggling for words. Penny snatched the microphone from him, and turned on the crowd. She stared at Sarah and Tallon, with panic etched on their faces, and Vince, who looked as shocked as the rest.
"My name is Penny. Penny Watt. And I will be the tribute from District Three."
Autumn Sinclair, District 11
The sun baked down on Autumn, whose tan skin and golden hair were already drenched in sweat. But she certainly wasn't the only one. In District Eleven, the agriculture district, the reaping made everyone sweat. Here, there were no volunteers, no Careers to take your place. If your name was drawn from the little silver bowl, you were entering the Games.
Autumn felt bad for those around her, who were panicking at the thought of getting reaped. She wanted to tell them that it was okay, that none of them were going in. There wasn't even a chance of their names being called. Autumn knew this because in a minute, when they decided tributes, her name was coming out of the bowl.
Her mind flashed back to two days before, when she had been summoned to the Justice Building for the first time in her life.
Autumn approached the building nervously. She had never set foot inside it before. When the note beckoning her was delivered to her small home on the edge of the corn fields, she couldn't imagine what it was for. But you don't turn down a summons from the Justice Building, especially in the strict District Three. So here she was, standing in front of the large, wooden doors, right on time.
She raised the old iron knocker and slammed it down three times. It wasn't long before she was let in by an assistant and led deep into the building. It was old, built hundreds of years ago, and the paint on the walls was peeling. They passed portraits of famous men she didn't recognize and very expensive looking furniture. They finally arrived at a set of doors that led into an office. The Mayor's.
Mayor Hastings was a stern man, who rarely socialized with the people of District Three. Autumn had never seen him crack a smile, and he was always perfectly composed. Today was no different. As Autumn entered the bright office, Hastings turned and nodded to her. The assistant shut the door behind them.
"Have a seat, Autumn." She did as she was told, sitting in one of the plush chairs in front of a large desk. Hastings sat across from her and crossed his fingers. "It appears we have a problem."
Fantastic. Another she could add to her long list. But she was silent and let him continue. "Your brother, Zander, has found himself in a bit of a predicament. He was caught stealing from the fields yesterday. Upon investigation, it was found that this has been a reoccurring event."
Autumn tried to act surprised, but this wasn't news to her. It began months ago, when young twins were born into the already struggling Sinclair family. The food began to run scarce, and Zander took it upon himself to solve the situation. Autumn had attempted to convince him otherwise, but Zander was too stubborn. "I had nothing to do with it, if that's what you're implying." She added "sir" as an afterthought. Best not to annoy the man who holds the power.
"Of course not," Hastings said, irritably. "But it falls on your shoulders to remedy it."
"What do you mean?" Autumn replied.
"Zander Sinclair now owes a debt to the District that neither he, nor your family, can repay. Doing so would require us to deplete your family's food supply for months. You would never survive." Autumn listened carefully, her heart sinking slowly. "As you know, the reaping is in a few days, which will send to children from Three to the Hunger Games. The victor of the Games wins a lifetime supply of food. That's where you come in."
"Sir, I already have to put my name into the reaping," Autumn said, confused.
"Yes, but if you take my offer, it doesn't matter who is chosen. You would be our tribute." Hastings stared directly into Autumn's hazel eyes as the gravity of the deal dawned on her.
"You're asking me to volunteer," said Autumn, slowly. "What would we receive in return?"
"Your family would be safe and well fed until you won, or were killed, and you would spare every other girl in the District." Autumn realized this was hardly about her family. This was about Clara Hastings, the Mayor's daughter. She would be twelve this year and put in the reaping for the first time. This was the Hastings' way to protect her without drawing too much attention from the Capitol. If it was discovered that the reaping was rigged, he could face serious consequences. So instead he was making sure she couldn't be sent in.
"Should you chose to not volunteer, your family will be stripped of food, your brother executed, and the Sinclairs will be left to starve." Hastings showed no remorse, no anger. His face was expressionless. "Do we have an agreement?"
Autumn hated the Games, hated everything they stood for. She hated watching tributes murder each other, hated the sick obstacles the Capitol put them through. She hated the interviews, the parades, the horrid outfits. But more than all of that, she hated the thought of her family suffering. So she sighed, stared straight back at Mayor Hastings, and replied "Yes, we do."
So, on reaping day, when the Capitol host asked for volunteers, Autumn slowly raised her hand. When all eyes turned to her, she walked slowly up on stage. She nodded at the young girl whose life she had just spared, and turned and faced the crowd. She looked from one Sinclair to another; Zander, a year older than she, stood in the eighteens, sadness stricken across his face. Eliza, her younger sister, was visibly crying with the twelves. And she knew her parents were yelling at the old television as they were taking care of the twins.
She wanted to hate Zander for stealing, but she hated herself more for not stopping him. Therefore, she didn't cry, didn't shake, but stood stock-still, accepting her fate. Because there was nothing she could do know.
She was entering the Hunger Games.
Finn Hightower, District 4
Waves lapped at Finn's bare feet as they hung off the dock. Dawn was breaking on the horizon, turning the ocean to gold. The breeze tossed his eye-length blonde hair back and forth. His big green eyes squinted against the sun. It was a perfect sunrise. On a day that was sure to be the opposite.
Reaping day was a little different in the fishing district. Being a Career district, the tributes were selected weeks beforehand from a group of those had been training years for the Games, usually an eighteen. When the day came, no matter whose name was drawn, the two people selected would volunteer and take their places as the tributes. The leaders of District Four had taken notice of Finn's natural ability with a sword, and had selected him to enter the Games. In a few hours, he would volunteer his life to the District.
The men of the Hightower family had trained for the Games since they began, twenty one years ago. Not all had been selected to volunteer, and those that did usually didn't win. But that's not to say the family didn't have any victors. Finn's older brother Percy had won six years ago, and brought tons of attention to the Hightowers. And now it was Finn's turn to follow in his footsteps.
There were footsteps on the dock behind him, and Finn turned around. Striding towards him was a tall man, wearing a clean black suit and was completely bald. Nothing the likes of him was seen in the fishing district. Finn stood to meet the stranger.
"Finn Hightower?" said the man, formally, extending his hand. "Felix McArthur. I'm from the Capitol." They shook hands, Finn sizing the man up. While the District Four and the Capitol were on fairly decent terms, he still didn't like the looks of this man.
"Can I help you with something?" Finn said, as politely as possible.
"I hear you are the designated tribute this year. Congratulations." Finn smirked. Only in the Career districts did those two phrases follow each other. "I have come to you with a proposition."
"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't make deals with strangers." Finn nodded, and made to sit down again, when Felix grabbed his arm.
"You may want to hear me out." The look in the man's eye made Finn stand once more. "I work for a very important company, run by a man named Tallon Watt. We have significant influence in the Capitol, and would be very interested in extending that influence into the Hunger Games."
"I'm no one's lackey." Finn was starting to get annoyed. The Hunger Games were difficult enough as it is. Finn didn't need to pressure of being a spy for some Capitol company added to that.
"I think you may have misunderstood. Our company has money, and would be willing to sponsor you. In fact, we can almost assure that you would win. All you have to do is make sure certain events happen in certain ways." There was something very convincing about Felix. He didn't look like others from the Capitol. No flashy clothes or painted skin. He was completely real, and almost seemed friendly. He smiled at Finn, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. "I know you come from a legacy of Careers. Wouldn't it be exhilarating to add another victor to the family tree?"
Felix had found Finn's weakness, his obsession with upholding his family's reputation. "How can you be sure I'd win?" Finn asked, hope peaking through his voice.
"We're very friendly with the Gamemakers. We can keep you safe." Felix gripped Finn's shoulder. "Interested?"
Finn mulled it over for a second. How hard would it be to kill a few tributes in a certain order or keep some alive for awhile? And having a sponsor right out of the gate would be fantastic. Finn grinned and shook Felix's outstretched hand. "Very."
"Great. We'll be in touch with you at the Capitol." With one last smile, Felix turned and strode away. Finn watched him pull out a phone and begin talking into it. It was a rushed speech, and he continuously glanced back at Finn. Finn's confidence began to wane. Felix suddenly appeared a lot more suspicious.
Finn rose and walked back towards Victor's Village, which sat right on the beach. His family had moved into the small collection of houses after Percy's victory, and had lived there ever since. He walked into the largest of the houses and after tossing a quick hello to his father and mother, he ran upstairs to get ready. Two hours later, Finn, his parents, and both of his brothers left for the reaping.
Unlike some of the lower districts, District Four's reaping was almost a happy event. Since there was no question of who the tributes were, there was no tension. Finn joined the rest of the eighteens, nodding at Mayleen Granger, the selected female tribute.
The mayor of District Four, a happy, round man, come out on stage soon after and gave his usual speech. Then the bowls were brought out and a name was drawn from each. A boy and a girl nervously took the stage, waiting for the Capitol host to say the fated question.
"Will there be any volunteers?"
Mayleen nodded at Finn, and together they walked up on stage. The two other kids smiled anxiously and hurried off. Mayleen and Finn announced their names to the crowd, and there was a cheer. As Finn was enjoying the applause, he caught sight of something and his smile fell. Felix McArthur was standing near the back of the crowd, smirking. When they made eye contact, Felix winked, and Finn's stomach churned. Suddenly, he regretted making the deal.
What exactly had he signed up for?
There it is! Hope you enjoyed it. The second chapter should be out soon. As you can tell, this story is going to follow Archer, Penny, Autumn, and Finn as they take on the Hunger Games. One of them will win, and I'd love to hear your opinions on who you think should. Conspiracy, love, and revenge are going to be playing big parts in this story also. It's not just a bloodbath.
Like I said, I consider your opinions, so please review!